Record Player

I am a record player

I go round and round

I cannot stop

I cannot slow down

And I shall wait

Until you change my sound

But until then

I will go round and round


I should have read the contract.

I should have read the contract

But I didn’t have the time –

Before I signed my name

Upon the dotted line.

I swirled my name promptly.

Giving little thought,

To the hooded figure

Standing by the door. Continue reading “I should have read the contract.”

‘Alone’ being the operative word

I want to lie in a hammock and stare at the stars. Trace the constellations with my fingers and count how many there are.

I want to sleep in a King size bed with one-thousand pillows and a throw. Curl myself up and experience the life of an Eskimo.

I want to sail  to the middle of the ocean where no land can be seen. And watch the life that plays out beneath the green.

I want to travel to distant countries and experience different tastes and sounds. My experiences will know no bounds.

In Honour of World Poetry Day

The wind should be filled with scraps of paper with poetry scribbled all over them.

My favourite poem is ‘If’ by Rudyard Kipling. It was sent to me by a fellow WordPress-er a few years ago and since then it’s a poem I always go to when I need to feel positive.

As a child I never understood the seduction of poetry, in fact I hated it. When World Poetry Day came around I used to shudder in disgust. It often meant I had to participate in a poetry reading competition and the thought of standing in front of my fellow peers terrified me. The first competition I did, my mum told me to read ‘To Autumn’ by Keats. It was (sorry to say) boring. I couldn’t bring myself to do it and inevitably stumbled over all the words. I cut the poem short because reading it became so arduous that I was unable to speak comprehensible English.

As I grew older, my respect for poetry changed when – on the request of my grandma – I read my first compendium by Spike Milligan. They were enlightening. I realised poetry could be funny, engaging and exciting. I would laugh until my stomach hurt, how could so few lines create such a reaction? They were fascinating.


From then on – with my interest in writing growing – I started to delve into poetry. At first it was unintentional – I would lie awake in bed at night and words and phrases would be created as I floated in and out of consciousness. The first poem I wrote was entitled ‘A Silly Little Rhyme’ which was written on 17th April 2009. It was written due to frustration at a recent visit to the hospital for spinal surgery when I was 11.

If you go to a hospital,
Make sure you know,
They might cancel your operation 3 times in a row.
If you go to a hospital,
It’s not much fun,
Sitting around on your bum.
So one thing to take,
From this silly little rhyme,
Don’t go to hospital all of the time!


The first poem I was proud of writing was Odd Couple. Written back when WordPress did Weekly Writing Challenges, it was the first poem I was proud to exhibit to a wider audience. From then on, I wrote poems frequently.

My journey through poetry is nestled away in my computer. It documents my ever growing collection (of crap writing) but I visit it regularly for inspiration.


Digging up my roots.

I know I say it often,

In fact, I’ve said it a dozen times;

I’m sorry I haven’t blogged.

But time, you see, does fly.

I’ve been busy with education,

University and life.

And now I’m living in Glasgow,

Everything seem to be going alright.

So I’m putting pen to paper,

And digging up my roots.

Because it’s time this girl,

Took a risk or two.

Soul mates

There are people in our lives we are destined to meet,
Not lovers or friends, just strangers in the street.
They shape our experiences, and keep us away from harm,
So that one day we can say, ‘we know who we are’.

They are people who know so little of us,
But try their best when our lives are tough.
To listen and weep, make us laugh and cry;
To change how we think, and stay by our side.

They watch over us carefully when we need them most,
Like guardian angels never deserting their post.

They reach out their hands to pull us up from the street,
And hold us gently until we are whisked off to sleep.

Then when all words have been said;
And we were comforted – all sound again,
They leave us quietly with a short goodbye.
Safe in the knowledge we will soon be alright.

Listening to the thunderstorm

I lie in the rain. Listening to the thunderstorm. Arms stretched wide. Catching the droplets.

I close my hands. Locking in the moisture. Allowing it to settle.  Before it trickles down my palm.

I lie in the rain. Listening to the thunderstorm. Thinking of how we met. And if you will leave again.