It has been distressing me that I haven’t been doing as much creative writing as I would like (including blogging, actually). and I am debating about the Novel in a Month exercise happening in November – I think it would be a fantastic way to force to get back to writing my book. In the mean time, I have managed to eke out these two poems:


Old ideas, like a box of silkworms under the bed.
Sadness and relief when you find them dead.


Oh My, Ringmaster

The lions enter the room
You wear your red coat and tall hat
like they will save you
Save you from the teeth and the claws.
You brandish your whip, so puny,
and hope to keep them at bay.

The crowd is enthralled,
They don’t see your distress,
Or know you’ve barely kept Chaos at bay.
Blinded by the cheers, and the lights, and the roars,
You begin to believe you’re in charge.

One little stumble is all that it takes –
The crowd thinks it’s all part of the show.
But how do you tell the strongmen and the clowns,
That the tall hat and coat, the whip and the voice,
Were all just your props in this show?