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  • Posted in Blogs ·
    Tuesday, 21 November 2017

          'I thought how unpleasant it is to be locked out; and I thought how it is worse, perhaps, to be locked in.' Virginia Woolf     I know why the caged bird doesn't sing And why God-given feather falls in spring The ruthless month bespea
  • Posted in Blogs ·
    Friday, 29 September 2017

     On Michaelmas Day, a scene from Entertaining Angels (unedited novel in long term abeyance).   Briefly: Sibyl was born to mixed race Dubliners at the beginning of WW1. Whilst her mother was as Irish as Guinness, her father's fo
  • Posted in Blogs ·
    Friday, 22 September 2017

      Photo: Bill Cooper for Birmingham Royal Ballet      You tied my strings and bade me dance, You weren't the first, you know, My cradle rocked to others’ tunes and primed the scene just so   Between the Then and No
  • Posted in Blogs ·
    Sunday, 09 July 2017

        The Still Point   I went through hoops for you We went through hoops together You went through hoops for me oblivious of the tether You wore your silver chain that sang of slavish irons I wore my golden crucifix the mark of f
  • Posted in Blogs ·
    Sunday, 04 June 2017

        Poem on the first Feast of Pentecost They don't know what comes next. They are trembling, assembled together for comfort, confused, bereft, vulnerable, exposed to hostile forces, on the edge of unbeing. They've nothing to bless the

Latest Comments

Monika Schott A rickety bridge
18 November 2017
Thanks, Di.
Diane Rampertshammer A rickety bridge
17 November 2017
Pure poetry - very evocative - you are a painter with words..Di
Ken Hartke Lamenting the Lost Art of Conversation
12 November 2017
Thanks for the comments. Rosy -- I look at this sort of social conversation as a healthful thing for...
Rosy Cole First Song
12 November 2017
This is almost like a memory of birth, reviving those sensations, but translated in imagistic terms....
Rosy Cole Lamenting the Lost Art of Conversation
12 November 2017
Oh Ken, how rare that is! A gift. What a lovely sojourn in the byways and an unexpected exchange of ...

Latest Blogs

                                                         The fading season —                             when all the trees have darkened           ...
      'I thought how unpleasant it is to be locked out; and I thought how it is worse, perhaps, to be locked in.' Virginia Woolf     I know w...
A slow sway pinches out a crying creak. It wavers and reverberates, motions in the belly as a slug of up and down. Yet there’s no whiff of breeze on...
Although I had admired a lovely large tree across our lake with yellow leaves for a couple of weeks, I kept wanting to see some reds and bright orange...
                To that which moves, to that which moves,          Which penetrates the universal shine         And shimmy, Roundabout, wh...