My poetry tends to come from bleak places of loss and despair. That is not to say that the poems are bleak. Often, they are lyrical and hopeful. I recognise a thread of cynicism in them sometimes. On occasion they are angry and bitter. But with the poems (unlike my prose) I try to let the feelings emerge uncensored. I also recognise my influences, and I hope I have used them respectfully and with enough of a tip of the hat to make them transparent.

I have an old-fashioned affection for rhyme and rhythm. Sometimes I write a poem as something to be read aloud. I don’t think we ever hear enough poetry. But I don’t want to hear some miserable people muttering from a corner, I want to hear the voice of the shaman, the percussive thump of his staff as he shouts across the clearing. I want to hear the wild drums that accompany the passion of the wise woman. I want a chorus that lets us all share in the pain and the love. And then at other times I want a reflective ode that one might read in a window seat, while outside the rain beats against the window, and the trees writhe in the wind.

I hope you find this poetry moving. I have also written many prose pieces about psychology, nature, politics, places and music. I try to keep an ear open for poetry even when I’m writing prose.

Bring on the summer

A poem about being present to the seasons and how to stop wishing for the summer.

Another night. Another day

A poem that juxtaposes the harsh juxtaposition of a phone call with feelings of panic. It can be read in one of three ways.


My collection of Haiku, most of them previously published on Twitter. I place value in structure, the importance of the ‘cutting word’ and the seasonal reference.