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.  And recently in the Centre for Pagan Studies Newsletter.​​

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I have published two collections, Poems for The Green Man and Blood in the Rain.

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A few examples below.

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Listen

A man walks deep into a forest. He hears a voice. ‘Good day Man. How are you?’ The man turns around but sees no one. ‘Do not fear, man, I’m just an old oak tree. I thought you could rest here under the shade of my outstretched branches’ The man scratched his head and sat crossed leg on the ground. ‘Sorry I didn’t know trees could talk’. ‘All nature talks, you just have to listen’.

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Tamesis      

Tamesis, flying, stretch thy wings,

Most beautiful river,

Give life, protection and reason to all things,

As you mirror the fireball, the sky, the moon,

For in our blood there is more than a drop of you.

Take those wings,

And flap them free

As you go from spring to sea.

The taker of lives

The giver of things

In the depths are the finger rings.

The symbols of love

Engraved heart, a dove

A crown above

Lost forever in your mud.

Tamesis protect those lost souls,

With your cold dark waters guide them home.

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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.

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Father Moon

 

Hey!

Hey! Father Moon!

You disturb me from my sleep

Of soft warm dreams you cheat.

The spirit of the west within me,

Stirs and whirls as it should be.

 

Yet you just sit up there

You wax, go full, wane

And renew.

Do you care?

I envy you.

 

My life is linear

It has a clear end                                                 

And it be quite soon

I envy you, Father Moon.

 

You pull me from my sleep

And yet grateful I truly be

I mock you ugly one

For within you there is beauty.

 

Hey! Father Moon!

You disturb me from my sleep,

Of soft warm dreams you cheat.

Hey! Father Moon!

Come back soon.

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Zeus   

That Eagle’s feather sharply brushed my cheek,

As I chanced a drink from the sacred spring,

Belong to Zeus, of golden wing.

Spoke command me flee from that place,

Blood from my face, mortal take heed

Where he had lain in wait for poor Ganymede.

In truth Olympus Hebe’s duty done

Of ambrosia, nectar poured for Gods

As this gentle boy on Eagle’s back must fly,

Through the silvery clouds,

 Beyond the sun

And in time there die.

 

Hazard a roaring of wind through wheat

Demeter, cold in life as in death, I seek.

There upon this jagged stage

I cast my eyes upon her rage.

To lose a daughter once

Is a most awful thing                

But journey through the eternal ring

Of loss and found

Would make a silent sound      

Scream.

‘Fast thee, wicked one

You will not take our earthly son.’

‘What he to you, little harvest Queen,

‘He not of your blood that I have seen’.

A menacing flap of sharp wings is given,

The lady stands, her bravery proven.

I stand behind the Doric column

One faint whisper my life Styx upon.

For these are Gods beyond Gods

Flowers beyond flowers

Olympian beyond Olympus

I am unworthy to be amongst them.

Yet still I must have my part in the play.

 

 

 

‘No brute that makes himself otherwise can I fear, ’

‘Brave words wheat wife, your only weapon a sheaf of wheat and this pale faced dove here.

He noticed me, I thought, and regained my worth.

‘My name is Assaracus, my Lord’.

‘I care not little ant. Hold your tongue’.

‘I am brother to Ganymede’

‘Aha, two ants for my kitchen. I am most pleased’.

 

 

‘And would you take another, my Lord.’

Through the tall green grass now appears,

Our eldest brother, who has come to lend fear,

Ilus the bird hunter, famed for bow and spear.

He stands tall and leans heavy against the other column.

 

‘Good archer Ilus your name goes before you

But I fear thee not, I am God, you are mortal.’

All this passage Ganymede sits on a rock

Not once stirring

Not once speaking

Accepting his fate as it is written.

 

Ilus takes from his quiver a golden arrow,

The fletch of bright eagle feather.

And lays it softly across his bow.

I take comfort on the other side of the column

For he is brave of heart, I know my brother.

 

‘Put away your arrow eldest ant.’

 Zeus shuffled from claw to claw

‘It will harm you more than this old God’.

But Ilus did not flinch, the arrow stayed nocked to string.

‘I gift you a golden ring brave Ilus, if you step away’

Demeter spoke softly hoping to save the day.

‘My daughter’s hand with this ring is yours’.

‘I know your daughter, I know where she be,

Although be her fair, she is dead to me.’

Demeter closed her grey hand around the ring

And threw it between the pending duel           

To land at ripples in Aphrodite’s pool.

And still I in silence stayed by chance,

Hoped to wake my brother from his trance.

Beyond the shadow of mundane he will find himself,

Above this world, to serve in Zeus’s hall.

 

Yet a sparkle I perceive

In the eye of my brother

The same tree, a different leaf, I wonder.