For nine days I have counted the bells – Midnight, Matins, Sext and Vespers - snatching sleep in the stillness between the peals. I placed my faith in their music to call you home to me. Every six hours another bell, another unanswered prayer.

A summer’s day

Morning comes so gently, mist tucking us under a polyphonic blanket of birdsong. Shadows shorten and creep along the morning’s edge. Stones bask, replete, under the sun's caress. The breeze in its languor barely rustles the grass grown tall and green against the red- wreathed sky. Stars like silver needles trace veins of fire across the … Continue reading A summer’s day

So close, so far

The moon shines down, her face inscribing a clear path between the banks - a silver span of light There flows a torrent of words between us a river of falsehoods and in the dark no bridge This mirror cinquain brought to you by the yeah write March poetry slam!


Three fingers for Sasha. I watched her bleed out. Three for Sinjin and Marc, lost in the blast. Three more for Mimi, whose last words I couldn’t hear. Three for Viktor, my last hope. So much grief, and nothing left for me.