Thursday, 20 October 2016

While you fly.

When I returned I found your jumper
thrown, carefree, on the floor
in abandonment, I concurred.
Charcoal grey in stitches, slightly pulled
from that catch last night,
a nail on the chair.
I wove it back through
now quietly hidden
in reverse.
later, freshly bathed
I pulled it on
hot skin now warmed again by your scent
your aftershave, your sweat
memories of home,
morrocan lamb,
bacon for breakfast and candles,
now only puddles of wax on the dresser.
we are together
droplets in the air
but you are absent
flying high
I curl into our unmade bed
breathing you in.

Sunday, 24 April 2016

Disappointment in The Room

photo credit . Tom Chambers

I tried not to look 
my view
singularly..evaded the obvious
the tiles 
My toenails
but you never noticed.
My chest rose in a sigh
I wanted you to place your hand close
you didn't.

Sunday, 27 March 2016

breaking bread

Image by David Ligare

Breaking bread.

i will break the bread with you
wrinkled hands hold passion
although that's nor evident to many
cast it onto the waters
feed the unseen
my lips are stained with burgundy
drops stain my dress
from my mouth or yours?
i sign the cross deep on your chest
you beg me to follow
i scratch an epitaph on oak floorboards
sweeping away the lies as i go
a humming bird hovers for nectar
she is willing but ultimately despondent
the bees are fallen
lily pollen coated  fingers
are not enough to sustain
the light is hour lost
hidden at the base of a japanned trunk
holding crushed peony petals and star anise
it may be found come October
but there is no certainty
by then we may be reclaimed
or found in other places
waiting for a key
or a song
or a scent on the breeze.

KD 27/3/16
For the other poets work go here!!

Tuesday, 22 March 2016


i shall pick myself up
i thought
stupid as i am
that i meant
maybe just a little
that over the months
no over many months
i had made you smile, laugh, cry...
with something other than hurt
with something like longing
like hope
like a hidden little secret
pushed far into your pocket
in quiet moments
of longing and lust
would be unwrapped
held up to the light
for closer inspection
the memories of touch
and sweat and breathlessness
would carry me in your heart
in moments of imagination
your muse
showing you
dreams and fantasies
you admired that
then you where gone

I always knew your secret.
I always knew your lies.
I accepted them.
But still it was never enough....was it?

Monday, 22 February 2016

Saving souls

Christ in the wilderness by Stanley Spencer

Somewhere a curlew cried
gorse scented blooms filled the air
yellow with pollen.
On the path below walked a man,
I watched as he weaved an uneven path
stones scattered underfoot
as clouds scurried in a unimpressive sky,
in the distance the sheep dotted hills
sighed in contemplation.
My dark mood unfolded to the stranger
his unwelcome intrusion a nasty gash on my day
I set my stance proud as he approached,
when drawing level i asked his business?
His returning smile unnerved me,
he offered up a handful of daisies,
in his second hand lay a chick
feathers ruffled in meditative thought.
'I'm saving souls' he replied
while walking on.

KD 22/2/16

This story eludes to a tale told to me years ago when i lived miles from anywhere in the Scottish borders, a visitor told that he had met God while walking the track to our house..i always hoped i'd meet him too, if I did he remained incognito.
For the other poets work go here. 

Wednesday, 10 February 2016

Seven Needles

photo credit Caroline Knopf

daily i toiled
seven needles threaded ready
gold silken twine wound
around  blistered fingers
a line worn through the nail
sucking  the blood dry
I weaved a tale
onto blue serge
it told of faraway lands
sea monsters and mermaids
flying fish dancing to the stars
of Neptune surrounded by pink shimmering shells
as octopi curl, in awe at his feet...
Your coat is ready, resplendent,
pressed with the hot iron
straight from the coals,
in a secret place
my name in curlicue
black on blue
a signature,
the embroiderers work complete.

KD 10/2/16
For the others work go here

Monday, 1 February 2016


between the towers
there is a bridge
unseen by the masses
gossamer thin and fragile
it leads to you
I falter at the first step
I need your hand
will you give it?

KD 1/2/16

the other writers work is here