Close up of a stalk of flowering grass, with white flowers and brown pods.

Brown leaves dance across a brittle lawn
Blown by a wind which promises rain
But brings instead a few drops which dry
Before they touch the ground.

The same wind swirls across the water
Bringing ripples of darkness against the blue
Cockatoos flash white against grey storm clouds
Which blow away, unspent.

So many memories in a little space
Like the clouds, so full,
Threatening to burst
Into a flood of tears

But they blow away
And I feel nothing
Dry and withered
Like the parched grass.

From my collection Songs of a Sad Summer

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Some of my other writing you may enjoy:

Featured

Ariadne's Thread

A$4.00

I peered around in the darkness. Neither the light of the stars, nor a streetlight, filled the blank void. I actually hadn’t rolled into the wall; I wasn’t even in bed. I’d hit the back of the couch — the short one.

As Caitlyn''s week of working nights draws to a close, she comes to question her belief that her past decisions have brought her to where she is; is she now too far along the her chosen road to have a choice? Or is it time itself which holds her prisoner in a place she no longer wishes to be.

The lift doors opened onto the tunnel. Like any entrance to hell, it smelt stale. Stale vomit, stale urine. Stale bodies, everywhere. A winter of rain couldn’t cleanse it. Tattered posters clung at odd places to the walls, reminding everyone to be alert, not alarmed. Despite two security guards sharing a smoke, the tunnel remained a perfect place for a murder.

Over the course of just one work shift, Caitlyn discovers it takes but a packet of Twisties, a ghost, and thoughts of a minotaur for her to break free.

Floating Elephants

A$4.00

A book of poetry by Anne Harrison

I’ve spent too long not seeing.

Shadows are for remembering;

They hold no secret depths, only echoes.

Also available for kindle/on amazon

In A Dark Wood Wandering

A$3.00

The novella In A Dark Wood Wandering weaves two storylines through the modern day and early Renaissance Florence.

Leaving behind a depersonalised world, a young woman seeks a retreat in a convent in the hills above Florence. Here, she soon discovers, is an Irish Mother Superior with a Machiavellian agenda against a communist mayor and invading archeologists. She soon has 'la donna bella' helping exhume some old graves at the convent, some of which date back to early Renaissance time.

In one of the graves she unexpectedly finds the remains of a young woman of wealth, buried with her child - and someone else. This is the woman from the other storyline. A daughter of a newly-rich merchant and a greedy mother, she is unusual for her time in that her father has taught her to read. The day before her father finalises her arranged marriage, he takes to the Badia, to hear Boccaccio reading from the works of Dante. Whilst there, her life is irrevocably changed.

Through the interweaving of these worlds, both young women – unnamed throughout the novella -–learn not only how to lose loss but also that to be un-noticed is not synonymous with invisibility, or worthlessness. Both learn to see themselves.

Also available for kindle/on Amazon

Last Tuesday

A$4.00

A book of Poetry

Also available for Kindle / on Amazon

A Dry Sadness in December

A Garden in Fiesole