Organising Clutter.

New Year, New Poems

I've been working on some poetry, lately. I know this isn't a startling revelation, but I'm quite pleased with how these particular poems are shaping up. One was inspired by the memory of my first scan in pregnancy. I was struck by the sonographer's words 'everything you see on the screen is bone . . .' and this led me to my opening line: 'When they tell you, your baby is bone.'

Poetry – I Take down the Tree

TreeI take down the tree, unwreathe its arms of tinsel and bauble. Now it is pure and green and dark, a figure without cover.

Poetry and its Deep Music

The ShoreA shot of sea spills its gut, deep music.
starfish

Starfish: Flash Fiction by K. S. Moore

As a starfish, I am pointy, shiny and spirited, with a zest for water. The tank allows me to see out into the world without taking part. I can float and watch and wait. The only problem occurs when a handler introduces me to a child.

River Walking in Kilmacthomas

I find the river. I feel the walk beneath my soles. The sky holds a spreading heat and I follow the light into the water, where it dapples, moves through green weed and over stones. A fish startles to life and I see him flick through the depths.

Outside the Window

Waterford Writers' Weekend is fast approaching and I will be leading a workshop called 'Get Flashy with Fiction' on Saturday, May 9th. The workshop will run from 10.30 am until 12.30 pm at Central Library, Waterford.
daffodil and catkins.

Bouquet: Flash Fiction by K. S. Moore

The pale yellow, shell-like construction of a daffodil . . . My niece presents me with the flower, along with a handful of catkins. The catkins draw my senses with their animal texture and my heart twists. This pure gesture stands out as my world continues to revolve with change. I take a sheet of blank paper, arrange the flowers, like a sketch. Every element has a shadow. I note the light and the darkness, capture them with my camera.
Rhossilli Beach

The Wind that Shook the Daffodils

The Wind that Shook the Daffodils: A Memory Story by K. S. Moore The St David's Day concert was one of the highlights of the Primary...
Roses.

Flash Fiction: Roses and Memories by K. S. Moore

She likes to sit right among the roses. She doesn't mind the thorns, doesn't fear them. They are only part of a rose, just as human prickles and niggles are part of their skin. Naturally, the petals draw her eye and her favour, like soft tissue, wrapped around a gift. The shade of pink is so light, she imagines its glide against her cheek, while the yellow is defiantly spring-like, late into the season.