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Category Archives: Art


It’s hot and sticky – a viscous, Mumbai sunset 
complete with Bombay’s colours 

I heard it said that those smiles are the best

but yours, dressed here now in glistening sweat

beams like the sky of high noon

You’re California

and I, aware of my own London grey

am content to reply with Irish eyes, instead



I spend most times, locked up with myself
in a crowd of people

Hearing lines of pearled words and wishing they were precious

I like you.

You draw me out

And I listen

Just saying…what I see.


I was asked to look at this picture and write, in exactly 100 words, what came to mind…it’s written below.

How do you grow?

If earth be left adrift
like rotten wood and
soil be soiled in salt?

Did science foresee
that beauty
could breathe life
by silhouette?

Maybe yet; an Artist

chalking in night
the boldest moon – so bright
that single stars dance

Their chance for the limelight
taken as he brushes –
tapers in shades
of dampening cloud

So loud they cry; look at me
it is I, that shines for you

He keeps concealing
dreaming what secrets
are hidden in leaves

Fury bursts with bright
and he smiles.

His boldest piece; black –
grown without soil
bathed in light

Introducing…In Audio.

This is a recording of something that I wrote a while back, called Introducing…

I have um’ed and ah’ed over whether to share this as I think my husky tones make it sound a little more filthy than I would have wished. But hey, you sound how you sound.

Anyway, I just wanted to put this out there because this piece was written to be spoken. I wrote it as a voice, thinking about the language and the sound of vowels and consonants on the tongue.

Every single word was chosen carefully, to create this voice. Somehow I think it works better as an audio than it does on paper.

Give it a listen and see if you see what I mean…


I am the slithers of suggestion, drizzled drip by drip
drenching consciousness with

I am the fire that ferments deep in the darkest parts
of your person, lighting the fuse.
Stimulating your power.

I am a warrior fighting abstinence.
Poisoning you
with tickling intoxication.

And I am blood.
Swelling the senses
with a delicious, viscous temptation.

The whisper of arousal at your ear,
I am sensuality.
Talking in tongues . Fantasy
infiltrating reality


I am the hunger in your eyes.
The greed.
Your need for satisfaction.


I am.


Colour Me In

Paint me in watercolours

to see the true haze

of my affection.

Pastels refuse to blend easily.

Charcoal: too black

on white.

Take your time to brush

real beauty,

putting down the pencil – no rehearsals

no lines.

Just colour me in.

Restore my picture,

stroking turquoise and crimson and buttercup

yellows forward.

To bring me life.

Conversations With Claude #2

Hello again.

Christ! Avert your eyes!

I can’t.


Physically impossible

Close them then, turn around, whatever! NOW!

You’re quite alright, I don’t:/-

Do it NOW!

Alright, alright! Although that bra does not go with those knick:/-


Shut! They are positively shut.  You need to remember that I’m a bird:/-

So am I! Half naked and violated!


You should be!

I am!


Good.  Nice dress…


Where you going?

Got a date.

A date?

Yup.  Hopefully a hot one.

I see…

You see far too much.

It’s all the flying.

Back to that, are we?

I watched you walk home, after we met


You’ll never get off the ground, like that.

I did tell you.

You didn’t listen.

No.  You didn’t.

Nice earrings.  Pretty.  Very shiny…they’d look good in my:/-

Back off Big Bird.  Stay over there.  I don’t want crap all over my:/-

What a generalisation!


You think I’d…how did you put it…’crap’. On an ensemble, like that?

You’d not be the first.

Might bring you luck…

I’ll take my chances.

I thought a superstitious type like you:/-

Could do without a crap stained dress?

I’m offended.

I’m not sorry.

You’ve changed.

Is that right?

You’re definitely, definitely hard work.

No shit.

And you are a terrible potty mouth!

Must be all the bird crap.  There’s been a lot, lately.

Really, I don’t think I deserve:/-

Are you going now, Claude?

Oh,  very welcoming.  I feel special.

How did you even get in here, anyway?


You opened my window?

Oh yes, with my jazz hands.

Beak, then?

No.  It was open.  The window was open.


Not the brightest star in the sky, are we?

I’m starving…could murder, roast pigeon.


Hopefully.  Now go away.  Date, remember?

Can he fly?

Hope so.

Excuse me?


If he can’t fly, he won’t help you, to.

I couldn’t agree more.

Are we talking about the same thing?

Not so bright yourself, Claude.

At least I can fly.

And you can annoy.  Annoyingly so.


And yet, true.

Keep practising.

I need more help Claude:/-

No you don’t.


You will be.

Will I?

If you learn to fly…

You’ve said this! I need to know h:/-      Oh.      Not one for goodbyes, Claude?  No?  Didn’t think so.


[Stumped, more bird-brained than ever…I shut the window.  Tight.]

Stupid bird,

Conversations With Claude #1

Hello there.


Mind if I perch here?

It’s a free country. Be my guest.


No problem.

Nice to meet you; The name’s Claude.


Something funny about Claude?

Just a weird name, for a:-/

You’re talking to a Magpie and it’s my name that strikes you as funny?

I haven’t met many Claudes.

But you’ve met many Magpies?

A few.


I thought you were a pigeon.

Now who’s being funny?


You’re forgiven.

I’ve seen you about, Claude. I’ve been waiting for all the sorrow.

Why is that?

There’s that rhyme.

So you’re the superstitious kind?



You ask a lot of questions.

I like shiny things.

But I’m not shiny.

You could be.


Learn to fly.

Physically impossible.

Have you tried?

My name’s not Mary Poppins.

You’re better looking.


You need to see…

I have eyes.

I mean, see what’s in front of you.

A talking pigeon.

I’m beside you. And don’t think I didn’t see what you did there.


Are you always so sorry?

Am I dead? I’m dead, aren’t I.

No! Far from it! But you could live a little more.

Is that right? And I suppose to fly, is to live?

You see…you’re getting it.

You’re crazy. Or I am…

You’re just seeing with your eyes.

I was never blind!

Just spread your wings…

What wings? I haven’t got any, I:-/

But he was gone, a speck in the sky; leaving me out in the cold. So I walked home…with my arms spread wide.