I've been writing poetry since my early teens. I have been published in Anthology of Eastern Poets, Witch Magazine, Witches Magazine, Pagan Dawn, Alternative Magazine and on a plaque tied to a tree on the Belper Art Trial.

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I decided to publish a selection in a book. The book contains an eclectic mix, although primarily pagan themed, of twenty-nine poems.  A couple of which I have included, as a taster, on this page.

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The book is available from The Purple Spell, a shop in Huntingdon UK. www.thepurplespell.co.uk

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My second book, 'Blood in The Rain', was thought to be a little too dark for the present. I agree, we need to find light and hope within the current dark times. I therefore withdraw the book from Amazon. I will reproduce the book with passive artwork. Eventually.

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Sample poem from 'Blood in the Rain'.

The Other walk with me

 

The Other walk with me,

As I watch over the Linden tree,

And feather the drum upon the mist,

Where the sound of the last pining lark persists.

There chain upon chain hold my spirit,

Rusty link after link I rage to break.

What am I, where do I belong?

Whispered breath forms these words arcana to song.

I sit outside the circle as I have always done,

The grateful Moon visible only by the grace of the Sun.

I have no frame to hang my hat, I am not this, I am not that.

I am neither Witch, Druid or Shaman.

I am just mundane and human.

But still The Other walk with me.

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Samhain Fire  (from Poems for The Green Man)

 

The Birch leaves fall from her golden crown,

Jackdaws and Crows in Winter voice surround,

We lift our face to this October dawn,

On the eve of the Winter Born.

 

Our Samhain fire we around circle,

In willow, berries and in purple,

We eat the feast and leave no crumb,

Then dance wild to voice, flute and drum.

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Yule Song  (from Poems for The Green Man)

 

Sun in Sky stand still, await a breath of recognition.

Lengthen the hours, look beyond,

The door of The Midwinter creeps open.

Chant intentions for the days to come.

 

Late walk with me in the Night

and lift the soft dark blanket

That has held us for so long.

Burn the Log merrily, advance our Yule Song.

 

We gaze at the flames

Somewhere else we are

Not here, gone far and not far.

 to the Lower World, greet our ancestors

Who also sat here, in their Mundane time,

Drinking of the spice, flame and rhyme.

 

All with wine and spice in goblets drinking.

We beat the drum to the rush of wind

That dances briefly through the trees

A nod to the Tarot Fool with new Beginning,

But in this time suspended no one leaves.