A colourful character
Whispers under a Welsh breeze
Hints of fresh linen and sweetness
Delicate as tissue paper
My grandmother, Iris.

A colourful character
Whispers under a Welsh breeze
Hints of fresh linen and sweetness
Delicate as tissue paper
My grandmother, Iris.

Language fashions the pysche I'm finding
words and music turn my pain into art
every ingredient brings magic
like the texture of batter in cupcakes.
Clothes exhibit my imagination
every necklace and ring has a story
weaving colours and patterns through my style
like acrylic strokes across a canvas.
I know who I am through my ancestry,
my archetype and personality
I know who I am through my studying
it only took me 40 years to get here.
We used to do a pub test
floating a conversation
taking a poll with our beer
the winner was the loudest.
Now I'm in my home office
a polished problem statement
is answered in online forms
and pre-formatted spreadsheets.
I give a voice to data
study all the ones and zeros
mining for insights and trends
to coax a conversation.
As the data grows louder
the pub test goes quieter.
Quiet above the cross-country roadways
a wall of beech and ash circle the view
lush green bursts from meadows and old forests
stitched together in a fresh golden hue.
A textured blanket of silvery clouds
sprays a dance of shadows across the valley
the sun breaks through with sparkles on houses
a transformative show changes hourly.
Silence passing from the dewey hillside
Her heart is filled with jam doughnuts and tea
The ghosts of Austen and Keats whispering
welcome to the finest view in Surrey.
Colours of yesterday fade
Golden nostalgia changes
Summer falls to the shade
A filter on the Ranges.
A sheer curtain with the dawn
Life inserts its fade out scene
A sparkle across the lawn
Warmth echoes last night’s dream.
A new world is beginning
Khaki, orange, brown red hues
Glows where the sun is burning
Beneath the cloth, we’re evolving.
Fluffy brown shadow
Sings towards the deep blue sky
searching for answers
Does he know the day is rare?
What thrilling game will he play?
An old white soldier
snoozing in his rocking chair
counting all his bones
He knows today is precious
The game is ending for him.


Side pony-tails and blue wellies
Found your red dusty rusty earth
Enchanting the young, wild and free
Behind the fences of Wentworth.
I loved hopping over the sty
Hunting the chestnuts on the ground
Scaling the Oak into the sky
Enchanted by the woodland sound.
You line the memories of my heart
A drop in the ocean of me
And although we are miles apart
I think of you often, happily.
Thank you for my magic childhood
My little patch of English wood.
I am a blade of short grass
Dancing along the river
Bubbled by the southern sun
And simmered by Sunday mass.
I’m not like the other hues
I only long for one step more
Springing from this tight pruned world
An adventure for the true.
Life took me from my woodland
Skipping, stumbling with the breeze
The passage of time followed
As I learned to take command.
I still have many rocks to climb
In my dreams along the Rhine.
I am a brown eyed unicorn
tip-toeing through this universe
afraid of my own echoes.
I want to find my voice and shine.
but I am a brown eyed unicorn.
I step to centre stage
the spotlight burns my soul
intensifying the fear.
I don’t belong here.
I don’t know where I belong.
I am just a brown eyed unicorn.
There is a reason for everything
the carousel keeps turning
the mountain needs climbing
and I am always wondering
why was I born, a brown eyed unicorn?
Stop saying ‘my understanding is’
be active and straight with your words
Stop second guessing your position
say what you need to say, be heard.
I’m not going to be here.
I’m not going to answer.
I’m not sitting around waiting
I’m dancing like a sunflower.
Courage is not the absence of fear…
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