The theology of hell — a poem
I was worried. I was seven
and Daddy (as we called him then)
was tucking me into bed.
I was worried about hell.
Archives: Episode
When Aunty Lesley died — a poem
When Aunty Lesley died of tuberculosis
she was thirty and I was only three.
I have no memories of Aunty Lesley
I have no memories at all from little me
only the mythology of tragic death
Once we were special — a poem
Once we were special because we were six
six little girls all dressed the same
all funny and noisy and naughty and cute.
Now we are special because we are
six old women all blessed the same
Once upon a time there were six little girls — a poem about parental guidance
Once upon a time there were six little girls (all my stories start that way) and we all lived happily giggling and squabbling and jumping and wriggling and running wild and running free or hiding away in a hedge or a tree. And our Daddy David was a country vicar and he always said “Be […]
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Why does that page look so white?
Why does that page look so white?
Why is it only half full?
You don’t like poems and fair enough
you take in an eyeful of words
and then the words stop short
making space on the right, your space