United Kingdom

Published Work


The white water swells,
                                   the wave breaks,
                    peaks and troughs.
The poem floats,  
                words stolen by wind
             writes a story in the sea
            I cannot feel
                        Am I deaf to it?
                                        the shore
And all that is left, 
reunited into:
                            seeps through a 
splash of laughter
                dripping as 
           the pebbles                 swim.

Poetry and Spoken Word Competition 2019


warmth seeps
through the hot red sand
a splash of laughter
dripping as the pebbles swim
garish stripes
fold-up chair

quiet boats bob
sharp injections of cold
arriving in waves
drone of a bee, drone of a boat?
distance silhoettes 


    I didn't want to go on the walk. I was happy to be home alone, but then Mum said something about how I never do anything and I could feel that familiar tug of guilt, like a knot tightening in my stomach. But, I will admit that it is pleasant. The sky is so far, so far away. And blue, a deep and heavy blue scattered with cotton wool. The grass waves in emeralds and there are small red rubies growing on stalks in little patches in the meadow. I look back at the river, flowing with endless meander. I want to follow it. Forever. I want to stay where the world is vivid and wide. The colours fade and the awe I was being gripped by fades with them. That's what being fourteen is like. We see things in excruciating detail and then they blur into the hustle and bustle of trivial life, trivial tribulations. The weekend is so...