The pebble in the box.

small pebble

in a wooden box

gradient of hope

made by man

loose fitting

still now

rope of woven leaves

against the grain

gentle flower

too quick to be seen

beat of wing

heartfelt but not true

step lightly

it falls fast

a crown of thorns

never in fashion

soft skin

nothing shows

light bears nothing

a small burn

everything changed while watched

which was a path

some things are not by rote

honey becomes ashes

once loved

a sword cannot cut

hand written

give me your arms

think a thought of sleep

eye has no memory of colour

 engines become too broken

wander out with me

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Once. So long ago, beyond even my memory, the Queen was sat at her window. She began laying out lines of seeds and nuts and watched the small songbirds as they darted past. While she was content for the most part she longed for a child of her own. A passing crow pecking at the seeds heard her sigh and watched as a single tear ran unchecked along her cheek. He was so moved that he flew to the edge of the forest and told of what he had seen to a moth. The moth, a mother and grandmother flew as fast as she could to one of the broken down oak trees where an old vixen lived. The old she Fox listened and nodded. She ran as fast as she could, but since the last winter she was never as fast as she had been, until she reached the clearing in the very heart of Appledown Woods. She paused at the door to the old cottage and barked softly.

After the door closed behind her she took a little of the milk that was offered and started her tale.

At Midnight on the Eve of the Saint’s Night, The Queen gave birth to a son. With the rising of the sun his proud Parent’s announced his birth to the court and made a proclamation that would be carried by the Heralds to every corner of the Kingdom. That this October Night, a Son and Heir had been born. He was to named Arwyn, after his Mother’s Father. Preparations were made that every village would have a suckling pig and eight barrels of ale to celebrate his naming day.

Arwyn learned his letters and Maths and History. He was taught to fence and how to use a bow. The Ladies of the court showed him how to weave cloth and sew. He had the finest tutors who taught him horsemanship, and hunting, how to fish and dance. By the time he was fifteen he spoke several languages and debated at the Open Court with a weight to his words that impressed the Ministers. Yet every night he was troubled by an odd dream. It wasn’t a night gast. There were no omens or anything that made him afraid, mostly because he had never been afraid. It was rather more the nature of the dream itself. He dreamed of himself walking in King’s Hollow in Appledown wood. A very, very old fox is a little further ahead and often stops herself to look back to him, almost as though she is making sure he is still following. When he reaches the clearing there are two distinct images, like a flicker book. One is a small ramshackle cottage, the other is the long burned remnants of some building. As he walks towards the door he can see his breath hanging in the frosty night air and hear the crunch of snow beneath his boots, yet when he looks down there is just fresh meadow grass and grasshoppers twitching in the heat.

And so the Suns and the two small moons dance around the skies and the world turns and seasons pass. A hand presses against the rough stubble of his chin. His eyes flick open and his mother, so resplendent with her grey hair hung over one shoulder, smiles and sits at the edge of his bed. “My you were deep to sleep Arwyn. It’s almost noon!” He pulls his long hair up and away from his face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t sleep well. We were supposed to go riding?” His Mother laughs and wipes a small crumb out of his moustache. “You Father has been awake since First-Dawn and is unbearable! Oh, have cut yourself?”

Arwyn reaches to his chest and there is a tiny amount of dry blood but no wound. He wipes away the small sandy flakes and smiles. The cold, marble smile of a statue, his Mother thinks. She feels a little saddened by this. “I don’t think it’s mine.” His Mother bends a little awkwardly, her back is hurting again, he thinks. She kisses him on the forehead. “Come and break your fast with me, I almost called you my little boy. I had forgotten how tall you had become…”

Alone again he washes and rubs a little lemon oil into his skin. Never having been very vain, it is his only conceit.  He turns to grab a shirt and there behind him is a Vixen. It must be so old. Her muzzle is peppered with grey fur. As he is about to say “I dreamed you.” He realises he is standing in King’s Hollow. The cottage door opens and a very beautiful young woman comes out. She crosses to take his hand. Her hair is like amber-Rose and her eyes are like North Moss. They shine like emeralds. He follows her without question.

“You have dreamed of this place before I imagine? Probably many times but never thought very much of it. Don’t speak. Just sit. I did your mother a disservice when I only wanted to help you see. Excuse me while I gather together the last few things I need.The she-fox came to me and told me of a lost woman who wanted a son. I know what it’s like to lose a child. By all the Gods I know that too well. So I made you. A simple enough conjuring… A rag , a bone, a hank of hair… I gave her what she wanted. A perfect, beautiful, clever son. I did not think of all the other things I should have given you. Desire, want, pity, hunger… a heart. You see the world but you do not feel it. Where your heart should be is just a single thorn. It was all I had you see. But I can now correct a terrible mistake I once made. I separated myself and lived beyond the now and the moment, I refined, honed my art I suppose.” And with those words, the walls of the world came down in fractured images. A heart, a blooming rose and doves weeping.

Arwyn’s eyes flicker open and his Mothers’ hand is on his cheek. “You were deep to sleep Arwyn, it’s almost noon!” Arwyn puts his hand against his chest to feel the steady beat of what could only be his heart. It is a confusing moment but he finally finds his voice. “May I Break Fast with you?” His mother seems to stare at him as though she is seeing him for the first time. “Of course, you Father has been awake since First-Dawn but we could all eat together.” Arwyn watches as she walks a little stiffly to the door. “Mother! I love you.”

She cries a little, but what Mother wouldn’t when her only son says ‘I love you’ for the first time in 30 years?

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You wounded me that night.

My heart and tongue so stilled

with honey and wasp stings

upon my face and lips.

We danced only once

a Waltz, your hand on my hip

Your cheek brushed my cheek

You said I smelled of lemons.

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tear down upon me teeth

eat out my soul

rend my heart it serves

ill will.

Feast Ravens

take out the measure

cast bones

a cord left in my hand

is a little thread

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To my tousled haired boy, I saw that skein on your jumper,

and with a fold of my hand I pulled that thread back.

I would wait out a cold winter with just the thought of your eyes,

In the spring I would feed you juniper berries and kiss

your neck, for you smell like the land.

I would wait for all time for no time has measure,

to bring to you pleasure and time can stand still, for as

long as I sing. I would dig my own grave if you gave me that order.

Elusive as heather on fields and on marshes. To the own end

I would march forth, if just once you would hold my old hand.

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I tie a small ribbon in your hair.

We laugh at the colour and my clumsy hands.

You throw it towards the moon but I catch it.

The waters throw moonbows into the air.

We lie beyond touching on the warm sands.

I watch you for a moment then my eyes close.

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New threat to Mankind…

Davinalek.

Do not swear! Do not blaspheme! Exterminate that tummy fat!

dalek cleaning woman

EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE!

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The Tides of Quiddity.

“River run and flood your bank,
take me with you beyond this field.

Let me wash away to sea,
return no more to this land.

I’ve lived beyond my span of years,
I would lift your veil and see beneath.

Let me find a comfort underneath,
embrace me love, in your deeps.

The stars and moon dance above,
their song is older now and wise.

I was your warrior, your Prince,
Your love, your slave.

From the water edge we came.
I return to it’s endless calm.

New worlds and Islands of Quiddity,
where only those passed can see.

Soon I will walk that endless shore
leaving just my ash and song.”

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Spring Fair.

The Spring Fair started a week late in Fordham this year. A mark of respect for the Death of our longest serving Mayor Allan Moss. When the vans and lorries carrying the stalls and rides started arriving in Long Marsh Field, the children began to get very excited and there was little else they wanted to talk about. Luckily it coincided with a late Easter so the half term would still be around the same time as the Fair. Something that has been worrying the kids for days. I had only been teaching at St. Claire’s since last year and hadn’t been to one of the Spring Fairs before, having missed my first one by just a few days but for some reason it provoked more excitement and gossip, more flushed faces and longing than Easter, Birthdays and the Summer Holidays. Only Halloween and Christmas were more readily and eagerly awaited.

Dave Lewis from the only Garage and Taxi company in the village had asked me to go with him. We had been for  a drink together not long after I moved here and several dates since, to the only two restaurants in town and drinks in each of the pubs at the four compass points at the crossroads side of the village. The Hart, The Lost Lamb, The Pig and whistle, known as the ‘The Pig’ and The Shepherd’s Crook. Although I was greeted quite warmly upon my arrival, young Teacher and all that, new blood, they kept saying, I wasn’t really accepted, I felt, until Dave and I started ‘stepping out’ together.

I had only been in Fordham for a few days when I noticed the brakes felt a little soft on my old Peugeot. Dave was the only person at the Garage and told me I needed new shoes but that I got a new arrival and Teachers discount. When he smiled he had little crinkles at the edges of clear blue eyes and a warm red mouth. He needed a shave and a meal, he looked skinny in his overalls. It was only later that week when we met for a drink did I realise his overalls were just too big for him and he was actually in amazing shape. We chatted easily, he told me how he had taken over the Garage after his Father passed and he and his brother and a distant cousin now ran it alongside a taxi company, mostly serving holiday makers getting back from the pubs in the village to the local B&B’s and campsites. His company was… restful. After so long in London surrounded by men who just wanted to talk about their own importance/artistic vision/how they alone saw the ‘real world’, It was nice to actually met someone who didn’t use the time that I was speaking to think about what they were going to say next. I told him about my Fathers fatal heart attack when I was 11 and how we lost my sister in the now famous, or infamous coach crash in France in ’89, which killed almost 30 kids on a School trip. My Mother’s stroke which really saved her life in a way and kickstarted her new life in Florida with my Step-Father Kyle.

Before long we were ‘stepping out’ three or four times a week. I had sunday lunch with his family twice a month, they were warm and so welcoming, his Brother was a total clown, seeming never to take anything seriously but in private was really very astute and intelligent. His mother was the epitome of ‘a Village Mum’. Plump and a great cook, warm, friendly, slightly too fond of sherry and naughty puns and dropping hints about Grandchildren with the subtlety of Silent movie pianos. I adored her.

We missed the first day of the Fair as Dave’s Mum had a Hospital appointment at St Agnes’ in Wendsfield, I offered to go with them but he wouldn’t hear of it. So on the Saturday, the sort of ‘official’ First day, even though the rides were open on the Friday, Me, Dave, Col, Dave’s Mum and Bill , his brother and his Girlfriend June stood on the sunny side of Long Road and watched the parade. My cynical London friends would have made nasty remarks and ruined the whole thing for me but when Dave slipped his hand into mine I felt a flush of warmth rush through me and looked up at him and smiled. I never thought of myself as one of those women but Dave was taller than me with broad shoulders, a hairy chest and always smelled of clean skin. No moisturisers or aftershaves. No hair products or lotions. Don’t get me wrong he is no Neanderthal. He is sensitive and articulate and… I think I fell for him the day we were at my little cottage watching Amelie. He had never seen it but we watched it without subtitles, I didn’t even know he spoke French and at the end as they ride off on Nino’s scooter a little tear rolled down his cheek. That was the first night we spent together, after we had… after we made love, we sat up in bed drinking tea and eating cheese on toast. I had never known such warm calm.

At the fair we held hands to the smiles of almost everyone in the Village and the jealous glances of one or two women who would have stabbed me to be in my place. At about 10pm Col said she was ‘pooped’ and was going to catch up with the girls for a nightcap at The Hart. By general consent we all agreed it was a better plan than watching teenage fumblings on the dodgems and behind hot dog stands. Dave and Bill brought over trays of drinks while June and I talked about driving up to London for a day’s shopping. It was all so silly and girly and well, fun, planning a shopping trip. June and I had grown very close over the last few months and I realised my initial assessment of her as a ‘village girl’ was just as wrong as my thinking that Bill was just a clown. She was smart and being the only girl in a family of 5 brothers made her tough and independent. I was halfway through telling her about which shops I thought she would like when she started grinning and her eyes seemed to sparkle, like the light was bouncing off them.

When I turned Dave was on one knee with a little box in his hand. His Mother was sat with her hands clasped to her chest, grinning like the proverbial Cheshire Cat.

Me Dave and our five year old son, Ben, named after my Father were standing outside The Hart waiting for the parade. I hear Ben shout “Nama!” Before I see our new Mayoress Colleen Lewis emerge from the crowd, waving and shaking hands. She grins unapologetically as she lifts Ben down from Daves’ shoulders and hugs him. “Ooooh! How is my best boy?” “Nama smells like booze!” Ben says giggling. Col looks about in comic surprise. “I had two, you grass!.” And hands him some lollipops. She kisses Dave on the cheek and strokes my hair before she puts her hand on my tummy. “Sorry. I always hated it when old ladies did this.” I put my hand over hers. “I don’t mind Col.”

The wedding was small but perfect. We didn’t want all the traditions and pomp. Everyone just wore their ‘Sunday’s’ and I wore a cream silk dress June and I found in a Vintage shop in Birmingham. The Pig has a big room out off the main bar and a few rooms for out of towners. My Mum and Kyle flew in from Miami and were treated like visiting dignitaries. It was the most stress free wedding I have ever been to. And I was the Bride! Our Honeymoon was two weeks in Canada, someplace we had both always wanted to go. I can honestly say I have never been happier. Of course we row, we don’t agree, we are both too messy for the other and we nearly killed each other when I was pregnant. But I love him. It’s just that simple. He is the first person I want to see in the morning and the last person I want to say goodnight to. When I was pregnant we said we didn’t want to know. We wanted it to be a surprise but a junior Doctor let it slip without realising we didn’t know. On the drive home from St. Agnes’ Dave reached over and took my hand and said. “What about Ben, for your Dad?”  I cried for the last twenty miles and when we got home Dave made me a sausage sandwich and I fell asleep in his lap.

Col is still stroking my slightly expanding bump. I smile at her as Dave takes Ben off to use the loo. It’s only then I notice that she has tears in her eyes. “Oh God Col, what’s wrong?” She rubs her hand across her eyes. “Oh nothing Love. I’m just a silly old woman. It’s just… You make him so happy. You gave us Ben and now another on the way.” Here tears are now flowing unchecked. “I always thought.. After Dave and Bill’s Dad passed away… I just worried about them so. And look at them now. And you and…” I pass her my hanky. I can’t help myself. “It’s a Girl. We were thinking Lilly, after your Mum.”

The following Sunday Me, Dave, Ben, Col, Bill and his new fiance June, Mr Shepherd, Col’s new beau from the planning office and Maud who lives alone down the road are halfway through dinner when Bill stands to make a toast. “Mum, everyone. June and I have set a date. So keep the last Sat In May free. We are getting married.” There are hugs and cheers and Col breaks out a bottle of Cava. I say no and so does June with a slight wink to just me.

When I was a little girl I used to read stories about big families and their ups and downs and celebrations and woes and I thought I would trade everything I have to be part of a big Family. Sure it isn’t all honey and roses, we fight and fall out and make up and go shopping and laugh and cry and watch soaps (My Mother would be horrified) and go to pub quizzes and gossip and just live. But I come home to Dave and Ben and Lily. Nothing else matters.

I’m standing by the sink drinking coffee watching Ben try to teach Lily how to teach Scooter the dog to fetch sticks, even though Scooter is ignoring them both, he only responds to Dave, when the man himself puts his arms around my waist. “Mum says she’ll have the kids tomorrow night, the whole weekend if we like. I thought we could drive up to Foldcester and stay at that B&B you like?” I put my arms over his and feel the heat rising through his Tshirt. “Or we could stay here and just pretend we went away?” He pulls me just a little bit closer. and starts to kiss my neck. “Urgh! Gross” announces Ben as he crashes through the doorway with Lilly in tow. I laugh and hand out wet wipes. “Lunch in five.”

My Boys and my little Girl are all eating soup and Dave’s latest batch of homemade bread and talking and eating and laughing and I can’t help but smile.

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Honey and roses

Thurs 22nd Jan 15:25.

I feel sick and have shooting pains through my abdomen.I sometimes forget just how ill I am but today is a pretty bad day. I had to go into the Centre of Town today but had to come home before I had finished doing everything I needed. I keep nodding off and only the pain and the cold wake me.

Why is it that when I don’t want to talk about it, I get inundated with questions and when I need someone to talk to, there is no one around?

I have this overwhelming sense that nothing really matters anymore. I can’t make any plans for the future. I can’t enjoy the present, not when I feel like this. I’m not even really complaining. I knew what would happen, I knew that I have had several close calls. I am no more, or less deserving than anyone else. I’ve started to wonder what it will be like. Will it hurt? Will I notice? Will I be alone or will someone hold my hand?

Carefully we hold it at it’s edges.

It is almost the world but has no substance.

Like morning fog or a rose dusted with ice,

It’s fragile, imperfect beauty is only here for a moment.

Breathe on the mirror to prove your life.

Hold fast to the ribbons and wait for church bells.

Like moonlit wings, white as snow,

they cut the air and only look forward.

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