WFTH November II: Outside

My second entry for November’s “freedom” theme, on the lighter side of things: Outside Outside there’s a fresh breeze, or so you imagine. You can see the rustle of leaves and the ruffled feathers on birds clinging to branches. But you can’t touch. You can’t feel the wind. Only imagine. It has been like this…

WFTH November I: Tether

November’s theme for Write from the Heart was “freedom”. In November I also submitted two entries, and this one was shortlisted: Tether Some days it was taut, like a violin string tightened to its breaking point. Put a bow to it and you’d hear a discordant screech, then the telltale snap. Other days it was…

WFTH October II: It’s Me

My second entry for Write from the Heart’s October comp, with the theme memories. An exercise in dialogue (and nothing but). The charity for October was for Alzheimer’s. It’s Me “No, gran, it’s me, Susie.”“When you were little, your father and I bought you that pink bike, do you remember? You would get up early…

WFTH October I: It’s Later Than You Think

In October I submitted two entries to Write From the Heart with the theme “memories”, this one was shortlisted: It’s later than you think A crunch of gravel and frozen leaves underfoot. Breath turns to smoke, rises up and disappears. A thought chases after, but it evaporates too. A sip of hot cocoa spreads warmth…

WFTH September 2020: Thaw

I’ve been remiss in posting – generally, but also specifically – my Write From the Heart entries of late. I’m still working on a lot of other things too – I’m almost done with the third draft of my book, I’ve sent some poetry in to contests, and there’s a lot of ideas milling about…

Poem: Green Jacket

Sometimes I go out walking in my green jacket. I put the hood up and disappear amongst the moss and leaves and grass. I become shrouded in the utter lack of expectation,which is the only true magic I know.

The last normal day

I remember waking up four years ago, to my partner – who had been up all night – greeting me with: “Good morning president Trump”. I thought I was still dreaming. I wished I was still dreaming. I wasn’t dreaming. At the time I expected it to be one big bang. World War III. The…

Sarah& the noises

Being an HSP comes with its own set of challenges as well as blessings. For me one of the challenges is noises.

Poem: Overture (for Write from the Heart, August 2020)

The smell of cowpats mixed with sun-warm grass and wildflowers,
Rough bark and silken butterfly wings, 
Muddy lake feet and pursed lemon lips, 
Bonfire crackle and the cracking of crab shell,
Crimson sun melting into indigo,
And the cricket sings.

 The velvet night holds secrets and promises,
Soft laughter and guitar strings,
The mysterious clink of glasses,
Skin touching skin,
The symbols…

Poem: The pleasure of being witnessed

Nothing exists in a vacuum. Not heaven nor hell (if indeed such things exist at all). Nor you nor I. I do not dance for your approval. I do not write for your judgement. I do not create for validation. It is for the pleasure of being witnessed. I was here. I was part of this….