Category Archives: Writing

My first, longest, truest love – writing. Step inside and have a browse, leave a comment, praise or slate, it’s all good!

just gone

I miss you already,
Although just gone,
Your sweet kiss a wisp,
Leaving me smiling alone,
The morning just waking,
Teddy’s poo on the floor,
Sharp tang of bleach and soap,
Take over the kitchen once more.

Your gentlest touch, cold
To touch, your twinkling eyes
Still on mine, the cats playing as
Always, and the old smelly guy’s
Still fine.

The waking house, Sky still
Sleeping, ticking clocks in my ear, stereo
Clicking away the time of the year, and yet
Still I can see you, still smiling, still mine, your
Wicked sense of humour, your gorgeous self tangled
With mine.

Peace at last,
Still inside, calm from the whirling storm,
Meteors touching down in Russia like a dream,
Sci-fi movie come true, Bible-thumpers screaming
The world’s ending too soon, while our hopes are
Still warm, our eyes up to the sky, the cats are
Still playing, Teddy growling his dissent,
Wishy whinging for love, Sky snoozing
In her room, and me thinking of you,
This is life as we know it, no surprise
It is true, and the only perfection
That we don’t already have,
Is to tie that sacred knot,
When I get to marry,
You.

i miss

Your body, wrapped around
Mine, our four legs inter-
Twined, your tousled locks,
Blond waves of sweetness pressed
Against my chest, warm morning glow
Through pyjama skin, my lips kiss
Your forehead, and you snuggle
Deeper in, burrowing your mind
Into certain deep, fighting the waking
Demons trying to disturb your rest-
Full sleep, your arms curled over and
Under my rising chest, my shoulder
Pinned beneath your heat, and all
I want to do is stay right here, perfect
Silence born on cotton down, our
Bodies wrapped, one curling shape,
My breath stroking seconds until we
Wake, this is the way of every day, to
Open my eyes, wishing wakfulness away,
Only to extricate myself against my will,
And wish I was there sleeping with you still,
So darling, so sweet, so perfect for me,
That going to work I am still folded in,
With your hot body luxuriating me down,
Your soft breath caressing my chest,
And my mind somewhere back cosy in my dream,
Where everything is perfect, just like
Our waking scene.

Author interview for Killer App with Bill Thomson from thebookcast.com

Excited is not the word.  Hyper, buzzing, twitchy even, is more close to how I really feel.  Ok, so maybe for well known authors or those who have been around the block a few times (maybe even me twenty years down the line) an interview may not be the most exciting thing to happen since sliced bread.  But it is exciting, and it happened to me, so please bear with my buzzing about it for a moment.

Speaking with Bill was a real pleasure.  He was calm, cool, and collected, professional, helpful, and a good laugh.

I, on the other hand, was nervous, flighty, and chatty, which comes through in the interview, but that’s ok – that’s just me.

So, without further ado, please listen to my first ever author interview, for my horror novel Killer App.

bowed

Too long standing, with
Back bowed, listening as
The words trip slip flip from
My mind’s handstongue, only
To die on the page, flopping listless
Like dying fish, until they lay dead and
Wasting, energy-less, for the next sweet touch
Of reader’s eyes, too long have I waited
Wanting, hoping, pushing, for some-
Thing new to arise, some great find, like
Semantic archaeologist, digging deep for
That one true rhythm that is mine,
Only to be told by inaction wrested from
The lips of those around, that what spews forth
Is no more real, or tangible to the touch,
Than you or I dreaming nothingness into being,
As such.

Bowed, waiting forever for life to
Return the favour, only realising by stealth
That waiting is no good for anyone’s
Health, but instead the striving for more,
But not more things, more meaning, or
Even more truth, just another day,
Un-bowed, with love and warmth
Under one roof.

So, wait no more do I, instead
I sing, of flowers and petals, of
Explosions and rings, with a screaming
Headless horseman breathing down
My back, I will keep on writing every
Day, until the words come no more,
And on that wordless day of life,
I will descend below the earth’s floor.

Coming home

to roost, happy as
a cat who’s got the
cream, living a life
that was once a dream,
all I can say is, “I am
here, ready to take it
all, everything I have
ever held so dear, and
hold it closer than my
own true self, never to
forget the journey far,
all tears shed, muscles
torn, eager ego rumbled
hard, shaken standing up
so long, so far, still and yet
not still, no more, tapping
footsteps damp on floor, my
one true wish has already come
true, that I am he, coming home
to you, my sweetest love, whose
tenderest kiss, traces ghost circles
teasing dry-chapped lips, until
the moment of open door, with
you smiling, standing there, happy
once more, may I remind myself
dreams do come true, if you keep
on fighting, just for you, at the end
of nightmare’s forever razor-bladed
ride, where each long night sliced
deeper inside, until raw scraping
cold hard steel drew screams, of
tortured lonely shattered dreams,
measured in heart torn silent tears
once shed, of lonely empty endless
dread, now coming home to youy dear, there is nothing left that is
empty here, instead all is filled with
brightness and light, for everything
is just so, just right, and all I can say
forever from the me, is you are my
one true love, and this is my dream
life, just you and me.