In these last days of summer…

In these last days of summer…

I feel the chill breath of autumn on my skin

the sun rises cold in a clear sky

and I watch each day end

with sadness in my heart

Someone wrote in a comment recently about the deep sadness she feels every day as a survivor of childhood abuse.  I also feel a similar deep sadness that is always with me.  Her comment made me think about how I live with my sadness.  This art journal post is the result but so, I think, is my whole blog.  My sadness fills every page and post.  It looks through the lens of my camera, it powers my pen when I write and it guides my hand through every creation.  It pours into every creative thing I do.  It is maybe like the image of the old journal that I use for these pages.  Its age and experience is there in its stained, yellowing pages that colour everything created on them.  It has lost the clean whiteness that comes from something pure and newborn, it has been shaped by the life it has lived.

Although I would never have chosen the life I have been given I find profound beauty and solace in poetry and photography that I may never have experienced if I had lived a different life.  It moves me that my words and images find a place in other peoples’ hearts and that they can express something personal for each person, whatever their situation.


Ode to a dying rose

Your life is so short
just a few summer months
and in that time
you have thirsted beneath the burning sun
and bowed your head to the beating rain
For all your life you have been
slowly dying
decaying and fading
but in the torn lace
and fraying linen layers
of your now fragile petals
I still see your beauty.

All the little teardrops….

Hidden in the hedgerow
untouched by sun or rain
all the little teardrops
tiny pearls of pain
like the dying of a butterfly
soft petals quietly fall
they lay upon the rain soaked ground
so still and small

This image is available to buy in a range of gifts here




Death in a graveyard

For every life I lost here
between the silent graves
for every little part of me
some evil pervert craves
for every cry and tortured scream
that cut like sharpened blades
for fear felt for a lifetime
that never ever fades
for all the years you’ve taken
apologies left unspoken
I want yours in return
I want to see you
twisted and broken
and left in hell to burn
only then, when you are gone
when no trace of you remains
may I float into a peaceful sleep
amid the downy feathered seeds
under weeping sweeping rains.


You are not alone


The softest of sighs

Just a breath

just a whisper

the softest of sighs

fading blossom

petals of silk

touching age old longings

paper kisses

the pain of parting

the comfort of remembering

not lost

just a pause