The sound of your day


What does your day sound like?
The groan that escapes through a mildly bitten lip as you haul your carcass out of bed.
The muted shuffle of slippers on laminate floor and the rasp of terry towelling against skin as you multi-task your way to the bathroom.
The squeak of naked foot against the bath as you slip into the shower – quite literally.
A sigh this time as the soft, warm water- needles pummel your skin,
and the voice of your thoughts, your thoughts, your need to stay just there, just there forever
(or at least for as long as the hot water lasts).
But it’s a work-day, or a shopping-day, or a car-washing-day, or a take-the-kids-to-the movies day
and you have to desert your naked haven and get-damn-dressed.
One day, you promise yourself,
your day will sound like ripe cherries squeaking against your teeth as you bite into their shiny skin and the juice runs down your chin.
One day, your day will sound like your daughter’s gleeful chuckle when she found the Easter eggs hiding in the crook of the branches of the old plum tree.

One day, you promise yourself, your day will taste of freedom.


On my way home, I was listening to an interview on the Radio 4 Woman’s Hour podcast, with Felicity Ford who is a sonic artist (and knitter). She was talking about a project she engaged on to encapsulate the knitting history of the women of the Shetland Islands. This made me think about what a day would sound like (and then I I slipped into taste).

Can anyone identify with my poem?

Seconds out – SoCS May 14/16


In time

the clock counts down the seconds





In time

we all revert to where we began





In time

all that seemed oh so important





In time

In time

In time


In time

Where do we go?


This week on Stream of Consciousness Saturday, Linda has allowed us free reign as to form, subject matter and so on. All that she asks is that our entry begins with a two letter word, and ends with a two letter word.

It’s a good job that this is all about stream of consciousness, since I have no idea where this poem came from on this sunny spring day here in England. I’m not feeling at all sad, even though the poem has that feel about it.

Why not take part yourself? Linda is an excellent host! Click here to find this week’s prompt.


Half-hearted – dVerse Meeting the Bar


Would you be able to tell me how

it is that they

almost always, or sometimes never

remained awake, or easily slept,

or simply behaved like

time was unimportant, buried

within a drawer containing no more than dented cutlery?


After a terribly long absence – life, you know? – I felt moved this evening to mosey on down to the dVerse Poets’ Pub and throw myself in to the creative juices that were flowing there (along with the beer and shots, know what I’m sayin’?).

So, the latest challenge is to write a poem in the form that is known as the Golden Shovel. I confess, it’s a new one on me, but so much fun! I can see myself delving into this form again. It’s fair to say that I’ve been away from poetry for a while, but strangely reconnected through a BBC drama I’ve been watching recently about how a family deal with their son’s newly diagnosed autism.

Anyway, the poem that inspired me to write my contribution is called ‘To his lost lover’, written by a British poet called Simon Armitage. I realised part way through that writing a poem where each line must end (in order) with a word from your selected line of poetry was quite a challenge, but I loved my selected line so much, I wasn’t about to give up and choose an easier, or shorter option!

How they never slept like buried cutlery

Yep. That was the line I chose from Simon Armitage’s beautiful poem. I hope I’ve done him justice with my creation tonight!

If you want to take part, please head on over to this page on the dVerse blog. Do have a go!