Monthly Archives: August 2013

Just a little detour…


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Shed at the bottom of the garden…

I turn a corner down the path of my grandparent’s cottage. The door of the garden shed creaks slightly, swaying on its tired rusty hinge, the subtle breeze nudging the wooden frame. It is empty inside, but filled with a … Continue reading

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A Poem About Poetry

The white blank face Stares at me from below, With blue horizontal lines Etched like wrinkles that cut They wait to bare my burden of words For I am scrawling poetry The face creases with laughter As I scrunch it … Continue reading

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Dahlia, Dahlia Fairy

Thought I’d make use of the plants in the kitchen.

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Grains of Memory: The Diving Bell and the Butterfly and the beach that its last owner read it on.

I picked up The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, by Jean-Dominique Bauby, a second hand book that was on my reading list for uni. In the crevices where a few of the pages met, I noticed some grains of sand. … Continue reading

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