Sunday, March 30, 2008

Polish for Beginners

I always thought you were Polish
with your exotic blonde beauty
so I polished my few phrases of that language.
You never know when it might be useful.

The day after I overheard you had gone

home to a country that is not Poland
I was in a bar speaking Polish
with some old drunk who said
he thought I was an angel.

previously published in Poetry Scotland

Overhead for Read Write Poem

Friday, March 28, 2008

Thursday, March 27, 2008

Poetry and Novels

Totally Optional Prompts this week asks us to be inspired by novels. To start with here is a haiku review of Snow Flower and the Secret Fan by Lisa See, a novel I read recently:

sworn best friends
write secrets in a fan -
bound feet ache.

Secondly, you can read a poem I wrote inspired by Fugitive Pieces by Anne Michaels

Thirdly you can read my review of Emperor's Babe a novel in verse by Bernadine Evaristo
here on the Pink Gun blog.

Finally, the last stanza of this poem was inspired by Chocolat by Joanna Harris

Sunday, March 23, 2008

The Secret of Chocolate

Her first class degree
won her a contract to discover
the scientific perfection of sweetness.

Five years on, her secret formula
heavily advertised, stays
stubbornly on the shelves.

While continents are ravaged
by a disease she could
have found a cure for

and a humble chocolatier
creates daily bliss
for crowds in a small French town.

previously published in Curlew magazine

Saturday, March 22, 2008

Publishing Update

I am yesterday's guest poet over on Cynthia Marie's blog Epiphany: Amor Habitus Intus Vos. You can read my poem here.

I also have two haiku in the current issue of Blithe Spirit, the journal of the British Haiku Society.

Wednesday, March 19, 2008


Dancing to Amadeus
in the dark of a goth club
takes me back to
a vast cemetery in Vienna
where a friend of mine
(though no fan of yours)
dragged me to your grave
where a tall pale
man in black
was laying lilies
whispering your name.

More on Falco

Wednesday, March 12, 2008

Smoke and Mirrors

One of a dying breed
an elegant smoker, you lean
casually against the wall
and watch the room
through the mirror.

You kiss your girlfriend
and whisper - a smokescreen
of lies, while you reflect
on another woman.

Your girlfriend keeps
a voodoo doll in her pocket
savage with pinpricks.

Smoke prickles her to tears.

Smoke and Mirrors for Totally Optional Prompts

Sunday, March 09, 2008

Gypsy Dancehall

I dance with Signora Argento in Transylvania -
plates smash
and crash to the floor
the room shimmers with Italian passion
and the imponderable beauty of Romany
songs amid sad violins

She is lost in the dance,
the moment, some inner turmoil.
I am drunk on the music
her beauty in motion.
The touch of her hand
is like some kind of promise.

I wake in a bed
where the sheets are all tangled.
My husband is jealous -
he knows I've been dancing
with Signora Argento.

There's an earlier poem about a dream on this blog here.
And birdwatcher's dreams over at Crafty Green Poet here.
Dreams for Read Write Poem

Sunday, March 02, 2008