turning nightmares into poems
Category: writing
Manicures & memories
Painting my daughter’s nails is one of those precious, intimate moments of parenthood. . . a metaphor for love.
First, Joseph
He was Joseph first. Maybe Joe, Joss, Joey? Then Luke. Joseph was locked down in a prison of time and amnesia. A footnote in official certificates. He was uprooted, transplanted. Luke was a shell, a skin other people constructed for him. He was grafted into a white weatherboard house owned by a white weatherboard family,…
Finding Poems in Unexpected Places – A Prisoner’s Shirt
Sometimes we have to go searching for ideas when we are writing. Sometimes they just drop into our laps, falling from unexpected places. Like this one – In WW2, Private Stan Herron (1914 – 1967) was captured by the Japanese, and sent to work with other prisoners on the Burmese railway. Prisoners were issued an…
Six Months in Aarhus
This time last year, you wore thin bladesscrewed to the sole of white leather bootsand wobbled close to snow-clad skirtsof a frozen lake. Your tongue still spilled English words skatesicecold The lake remained solid for weeks long after you coaxed your borrowed skates into swooping curves and spiralsto explore further from shore and your tongue…
Every Time I Blink
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Broken Plates: a short story
Laura’s tutor thinks mosaic is regenerative art. Laura thinks the tutor is a kook. Will she have a change of heart?
Writing Poems & Stories from Photos
“A picture is a secret about a secret, the more it tells you the less you know.” how photographs can help with writing.
Finding Your Way through Writer’s Block
Feijoa season is finished for the year in my garden. I’ve pruned the trees now the fruit are finished, snipping off the branches growing too close together, making sure there was space for birds to fly through. The sun was hot for late May, more like a spring day in the northern hemisphere than an…
Shoelaces – a short story
My shoelaces are missing again. My running shoes lie strewn on the floor, pointing in opposite directions. A ladder of darker grooves imprints the white leather tongues. The first time, we have this conversation. – Have you seen my shoelaces? – What do you want laces for? – I want to go for a run.…
