When you went to the waters, Lakeer Magazine, September 2023

“Your pain unprisoned,
when it fled the trappings
of your last human breaths,
did it glide fish-like into the tide?”
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What the Fire Couldn’t Take from Us, Nymphs Publication, May 2022

“And so we had it, our last dance;
the one thing
the fire couldn’t take from us.”
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Poems for my Son, Lucy Writers’ Platform, April 2022

“Forgive me that it left you broken too;
there isn’t room enough in the universe
for a mother to break and unbreak.”
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Truman Meets the Sky, Nymphs Publications, June 2021

“God-like, they watched,
a fly in a trap,
sport for wanton boys,
bait for their play”
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Cakes by Carol, Wild Court, March 2021

“What did it matter then?
No matter the spectacle,
it was spoof in the end…”
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Six Micro Poems, Volume Poetry, February 2021

“Some men
when they see me on the road
grind their teeth so hard…”
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The Man and the River, RIC Journal, December 2020

“This river was a reluctant keeper of secrets;
it didn’t move
like a hungry beast with a belly on fire”
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Six Poems, The Punch, November 2020

“There were two sides already;
he stood on one,
life, on the other ‘Two Sides”
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Life’s a Soap on My Television Screen, Last leaves Mag, October 2020

“One way it gets too much
for a sunshine bloke like me
I can handle it pretty well though
I just need my shot
between murders and musicals
zapping in and out at will”

Repartee, RIC Journal, October 2020

“Take your pick of warped cliché
your choice of smart-ass quip
since we are in a joust
of poetic justice”
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Daughter of the Night, Visual Verse, July 2020

“They told us we were daughters of the night, it was always deep dark moonless night”
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Arachnid, Wild Court, September 2020

“The waters have risen
the signals have sounded
in our skeletons
of minimal composition”
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Plasma, One Hand Clapping, July 2020

“Sundown is litmus
the cruelest hour to bear”
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No Hassle Deal, The Aleph Review, February, 2020

“just a hassle-free deal
no time wasted on silly, girly stuff
no trouble of flowers and ribbons”

Five Poems, Poetry at Sangam, October 2019

“Those wings are pixie dust;
Held too tight,
they are ash,
they are yesterday”
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Weave, Sky Island Journal, Spring 2019

“I came to her temple
like a heathen
at a wrong address
with a kind of dread
and a kind of awe”
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