I still haven’t worked out what to do when I grow up! I’m mainly a writer, an artist, and a fairytale dressmaker with various crafty hobbies! Here (and on YouTube) I share bits of my life, thoughts, and what I’m learning along the way. Let’s find magic and inspiration; join me for this creative living adventure!

 

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Joust

I was inspired by one of my favourite films, A Knight’s Tale (starring Paul Bettany and Heath Ledger) for this poem. Some people in my writing group loved this, and some people didn’t!

Joust

I vaguely hear
the impatient calls of the crowd
and the advice of my squire,
but heavier sounds press inside my helmet:
the mutters of my horse;
the scrapes of his hooves as he tears chunks of grass.

“Keep your eyes on the target.”
The slits of our visors glare across the field.
I spit the dust from my tongue.

My guts wince at the blare of trumpets.
The horse’s ears flatten, ready
to charge.
The rumble of hoof beats
seem to push against time,
ignoring the frightening speed of my opponent.
I hear maidens shouting from the stands
and I’m aware
of horse’s sweat and roasting swine,
of glinting sunlight on advancing metal,
and the death-weight of the lance in my arm.

Suddenly,
I can see his eyes
and we slam against each other.

Short stories and Poems, Writing,
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Worbarrow bay
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May 18, 2021
Dance of the Butterflies A semi-circle bay of liquid turquoise as still as a deep secret and barely a sound as the languid waves touched the pebbled beach. It was so much warmer than expected; unneeded layers draped over our arms. Merlin panting; concerning us for lack of fresh water until we found a Jurassic filtered stream. All of us excited for his first trip to the sea All of us excited for our first day to be free. I’d only thought yesterday I was yet to see a butterfly, but as we walked the stony track to the car we saw a pair of them, unidentifiable by their urgency. Enchanted by each others’ spirit they were trapped in their frenzied jive of spring. Unable to leave each other, or to leave the dance Unable to be completely released; unable to take the chance.   Whispers of the Stones Imagining recollections of the lives of here The way they felt; the joy, the fear The mundane, their day to day The colours of spring, the winter grey The salty breezes absorbed in their bones Their secrets and memories whispered by the stones   I’ve started an art journal! And these are the words I wrote to go with the mixed media art I came up with. It was all inspired by the first time we were allowed to leave the house for actual fun! We went to Tyneham Village – an abandoned place where everyone was evacuated for the Second World War, and weren’t allowed back. A short walk from there is Worbarrow Bay; and with the sun shining, the sea really did look turquoise. If you’d like to see our day out, I have started back on YouTube again, and it’s in this week’s video:

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