Stitch This

  • Six weeks

    Six weeks

      The school doors at last are shut and locked up The alarm clock is quiet, we won’t get up For a while – tho’ the dawn chorus is loud, in full swing Nor will I be running wild, packing up the school things into bags, bleary eyed, rumpled, unironed, dishevelled. My sleep deprivation has a hope of…

  • 1

    Solitude is not the same as being alone. the former is aspirational the latter just dismal you choose solitude, luxury in the silent wrapping of self dipping into dark quiet and reverie. alone has a keening, hankering haunt tense and taught as you lean to a touch, any touch make a contact light the bulb…

  • Motionary

    Motionary

      Time has, as we know, a relative flow. Not rock steady, it eddies.  It’s tributaries tangling, and we stand angling for the ones that got away, the elusive minnow minutes darting and starting to snap in my fingers  as I grasp and clasp them And hold them close to. Watch out, they can crumble! watch…

  • Pass the full fat whatever

    Pass the full fat whatever

    I raided the cupboard tonight I wanted crisps, salt and bite But snacks there were none My shelves are no fun And my jeans are accusingly tight. If only there was a quick answer To make me as lithe as a panther To smooth all my bumps And banish those lumps But instead I have…

  • Nocturne

    Nocturne

    I stay up late at night: I somehow need to feel the dark. To have a space to bubble into, Rise and grow and stretch myself. But I am also lonely. Late at night is a solo shift. I should be being social, chatty. But I shrink away from that. A conundrum lies before me,…