Talking to the Gods

I beseech thee all ye gods and minor deities both known and unknown.
Hear now and witness my dreams, my prayers and my oaths.

I beg ye to grant me the strength to that which I must, that which I can, that which is needed.

I beg ye to grant me the gift of great challenges, that I may grow, learn and thrive from the accomplishment.

I beg ye let me know peaceful times, to know a land rich, fertile and free, that I nor my children need not know hunger, nor fear, not hate nor envy.

I beg ye show me a generous span, that I may see your gift of the world, love fiercely, and build for the future that comes after me.

I beg not for wealth or prosperity, but for comfort and security. I pray for family, the love of a good woman, for strong sons and comely daughters.

I pray for protection, not for myself but for my people. That they may grow strong and proud, protecting and nurturing my line, as it protected and nurtured those before me.

I pray you watch over us all.


A Bad Idea

It’s a bad idea, me feeling this way.
It’s a bad idea, the way I’m looking at you.
It’s a bad idea, the way you’re smiling back at me.
It’s a bad idea, but I don’t really care.

I’m probably reaching, reading too much into an ‘us’.
But my heart starts to flutter at the sound of your voice,
My lips start to smile at the sight of your face,
My knees seem to tremble at the squeeze of your hand,
And my breathing constricts when I hold you in my arms.

But its a bad idea, me thinking this way.
You’re smart, you’re kind and you’re funny, not to mention way too good for me.
But its a bad idea, and it would never work.
But I’m falling hard, I’m falling fast and I don’t really mind at all.

My love

You’ve broken my heart, my lover, my life.
You’ve broken my heart my love.

You’ve rendered my soul, my lover, my life.
You’ve rendered my soul my love.

You’ve left me alone, my lover, my life.
You’ve left me alone my love.

You’ve crushed my spirit, my lover, my life.
You’ve crushed my spirit my love.

You’ve shatterred my world, my lover, my life.
You’ve shatterred my world my love.

I’ll not return, said my lover, my life.
I’ll not return said my love.

It destroyed my dreams my lover, my life, when you said you’d not be my wife.

A bed at night

As I lie a bed at night, your shade lies there beside me.
It keeps me tossing and turning, mind consumed by the what if’s.

In my sleepy half waking I see the ghost of your smile,
I sense the heat of your presence, feel the sigh of your breath.

But come the dawn I find cold flat sheets, see no shape on your pillow.
Your spirit fled in the night, left me alone in the cold dawn light.

As I lie there, still and staring, my hand resting on empty space.
I think then of telling you, of just letting you know.

Of how much I still love you, but I’m scared you already know

Ye Gods and Minor Deities

My God is your God.

A Burning Bush. A Moving Mountain. A Sacrificed Son.


My God is your God.

Punishing the wicked and rewarding the righteous.


My God is your God.

Pantheons or Deities. Spirits or Nymphs.


My God is your God.

Universal Laws. Love they neighbour. Heal the sick. Doeth unto others.


My God is your God.

Many heads. Many hands. Many faces. Many forms.


My God is your God.


It’s that time of year, a time of reflection, of assessment, of planning the next move.


Looking back, looking ahead. A thousand questions that float in my head.

What went wrong? What went right? Balancing good with bad; better with worse.

Things that have changed with things that are different.

Things that remain as they always have.


Positive and negative, light and dark. The duality of life.


Some of it is amazing, fantastic, beyond my wildest dreams.

Some of it terrible, haunting, painful. Both emotional and physical.

Warm kisses, cold shoulders. New beginnings and bitter endings.

Comfort and compassion, cruel words and cutting remarks.


You cannot change the past, but you can look to the future.

Change for the better or for the worse but change you will.

Friends lost and friends reunited, new acquaintances brightening life.

Children born, people dying. The cycle of life continuing, uncaringly.


It’s that time of year again. A time of reflection, of contemplation, of new beginnings and planning the next move.


A giant made small, time pressing her down and compressing whilst stretching me tall, then taller, a giant beside her.

Hair coated in plastic, bouncing back from any assault. Skirt, blouse and cardigan almost like a uniform, appearing with a smile and a hug.

Holidays, weekends, evenings of my childhood. Sleep overs, emergency deliveries. “Grandma I’ve forgotten to bring…” and, “Grandma I don’t feel well; can I come to yours?”

Forts made of pillows, watching the same three videos on repeat. Tarzan bumper stickers and an innocent view, “why does everything have a double meaning!”

Walks on the Chevin or up to the woods. “No Grandma, let’s go this way.” Off to the Abbey for picnic or down to the river for a play in the park.

Oaty biscuits that melt in the mouth. Gravy so thick that it passes for soup. Cakes on your birthday; decorated to perfection. Snacks and sweets and good things to eat.

Then later, “Grandma I like this girl,” or, “Grandma, we broke up.”

An ear, a shoulder, a hug, a kiss on the cheek. A light in the dark, a bulwark against pain, an ally – unreservedly. Always there, never too busy.

My Inspiration.

Her eyes are piercing, they see into the depths of the darkest places in my mind; shining a light on the shadows that cloud my thoughts.

Her voice can caress like a lover or crack like a whip. It calms me and encourages me, reprimands me and inspires me. Dispensing both wisdom or humour in equal measure.

Her lips are soft, they are gentle and warm. Not quite red, not quite brown. Their curve promising a thousand different mischiefs and delights.

Her smile is infectious; the sight of it sets my blood afire. The beat pushes and pulses, shooting heat through to my innermost soul.

Her hair falls in a long cascade. It flows in the breeze and floats like a mist over my pillow. Its curls offer an endless enchantment to my eyes.

Her scent is intoxicating. It is as heady as a perfume yet subtle and elusive as pollen on the wind. Its aroma is enough to drive all other thoughts from my mind.

Her heart is mine as mine is hers. They beat as one in the quiet of the night as we lie together in the cool before the dawn; enjoying the peace love finally granted.

Dystopian Sample Page

As was his long ingrained habit Patrick’s mind was fully alert as soon as his eyes opened from sleep. A quick glance around the dusty, damp warehouse room that was the temporary home of his little group confirmed that there were no immediate threats. Being careful not to disturb the dark haired young woman curled up close beside him Patrick carefully and tenderly tucked the moth eaten blanket they’d been sharing more snugly around her before making his way over to the shattered windows and looked down into the street.

He saw no movement, nothing but the mist that caused him any alarm. Still moving silently Patrick made his way back over the debris strewn floor, stepping around the sleeping bodies he paused only to collect his sharpened ash staff before heading down the stairway that led to his groups’ level. The first thing he found was that the guard, Matthew, who’d been left on the landing half way between the floors had fallen asleep, before the boy could awaken Patrick slapped his hand to the kids mouth and held it there as Matthew struggled briefly as he came awake.

“Sorry boss,” Matthew said sheepishly as Patrick removed his hand, “I swear I wasn’t asleep for more than a few minutes at most.”

“It’s ok Matt,” Patrick replied, “just next time you’re feeling sleepy come and get me and I’ll take over or put someone else on to cover us, you know what happened last time we got caught out.”

Matthew looked away for a moment the boys’ eyes clouding slightly at the memory, “I’m really sorry boss it won’t happen again.”

“I know lad, go do a quick sweep up to the roof and I’ll head down, before you go up get Simon to take over here and then get a few hours rest. We’ll be moving on once the mist is burned off a bit.”

The mist could be a problem; the group had been hiding in the warehouse for two days already avoiding first a patrol sent out by the local gang that infested this area of the city and then by a herd of the others that had worried the entire group and had them scared witless until Patrick had called the all clear. The mist would mean that the visibility would be low making it very risky to attempt to move on to their next destination. If it didn’t warm up enough today to clear the air then it would mean another long day in the warehouse they’d already picked clean.

“Sure thing; thanks boss,” Matthew replied grabbing his cricket bat before bounding up the steps and out of sight.

Shaking his head slightly Patrick made his way down the wide steps much more slowly and carefully than his young friend had just gone up; making sure that he was on the outer edge of the spiral to give himself the maximum amount of time to react to anything coming up towards him. He made it the ground floor without meeting anything coming up. He wasn’t expecting to though, his most effective guard was down here. Patrick gave out a three toned whistle, low, high, low. He waited three seconds then gave the whistle again, low, high, low. Then he heard it the rapid clicking of claws on the hard concrete floor as the dogs came charging across to greet him.

The largest of the pair, Lucas, was black as pitch with wavy long hair, a mongrel of probably half a dozen different heritages. His back came up to Patrick’s waist and one of his ears had been chewed off in one fight or another. He looked fearsome beast but in a real fight he was a coward who made a lot of noise. If someone had come into the warehouse it was Lucas who would have woken the group, and anyone else in about a half mile radius. The smaller dog, Gwen, was a Labrador but members of the group swore she was part hell hound. To members of the group she was gentleness itself but to strangers when released to attack she was vicious and would always go for the throat.

Patrick leant down and scratched the two behind the ears, “Hey guys, anything?” the two dogs sat and wagged their tails, their way of telling Patrick that all was quiet. “Breakfast soon, stay down here.” Having reassured himself that all was safe despite Matthews’ nap he turned and headed back up the stairs.

New Sensations

It starts with a look, a glance, a smile across the table.

Introductions made.

A walk in the moonlight.

Numbers swapped, connections made.

A kiss on the cheek.

Messages sent, messages received.

A growing rapport.

Another meeting, another walk.

Another chaste peck on the cheek.

Finally a ‘date’. Dinner, drinks and dancing.

Uncomfortable silences.

A lightened head.

Sore feet.

The first kiss, a mutual grin.

A glow that spreads from your head to your toes.

An incredible thrill sending sparks coursing through the blood.

Another walk in the moonlight.