THE DAY MY DOG DIED – A POEM

Writing

We map the ground,

Frozen hard as twisted bone,

Woven antler on father’s knife

That crests our fireplace

At home, waiting, violent-still;

We cast ash to dirt,

Watch it settle in paw prints,

Turned to stone, brushed by breeze

That used to roam

These hills, the grainy moors.

 

We sit around the fire,

Licking heat with orange tongue,

Crackled coals barking from

The depths of shattered lungs,

We coil into the armchair,

Vacant leather, fur still clung,

And wonder where the grass

Now is, that you bound among.

 

MY OTHER WRITING – HERE

 

 

HIGHLANDERS

Photo

There’s a farm near where I live. Well actually, there’s only farms near where I live, but this one is my favourite. It’s a twenty minute walk, always quiet, and home to these gloriously wooly Highland cows. They were a bit apprehensive the first few times I tried to get close, but after a few trips they were used to me; they’re incredibly friendly creatures, and have a prehistoric presence that looks fantastic through the lens. I hope you enjoy these as much as I enjoyed taking them…

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ALL PHOTO SETS

ESCAPE – A POEM

Uncategorized, Writing

He longs for fresh pastures

as he waits within his cell,

Tasting licks of stale air,

A sandpaper tongue that dances

like a candle flame,

He doesn’t feel the warmth;

Hunger keeps him eager

whilst his brothers fall to sleep,

They’re all dreaming,

Freedom lies beyond the walls

of solid stone,

He is stood, already, there;

The wooden cage begins to fade

into horizons, green,

A vision driving onward,

He stands alone

somewhere between,

Inescapable reality

and

the safety of his dream.