​Welcome! Explore My Creations & Discover Your Favourites.

​This is the central home for all of my creative work. Whether you are a long-time reader or visiting for the first time, I invite you to dive in and explore.​

🧭 How to Navigate the Site

Latest Postings: Tap on the links in the written menus below to search my writing. To dive straight into my most recent pieces three will show on my front page. To browse by Category: Click the Menu drop down at the bottom of the page.  Simply choose a category that sparks your interest and see what you discover.

✒️ The Poetry: From Craft to Soul

​My writing journey spans over a decade, and you will find an eclectic mix of styles reflecting that growth.​

The Evolution of Style: Explore everything from my early, structured days—where my poetry was more didactic and traditionally rhymed—through to my contemporary work, which leans toward free verse while still experimenting with classical forms.​

Themes & Texture: I have a deep love for psychological poetry, vivid imagery, and the natural music of language. My hope is that you find lines within these pages that truly speak to your own experiences.​

The Craft Behind the Words: Having dedicated several years to studying the mechanics of writing, I also share numerous craft-based articles. If you are a fellow writer or a curious reader, these insights into the “how” and “why” of poetry are for you.​

📚 Coming Soon: Sneak Peeks & Previews

​I am currently in the exciting throes of producing two new books of poetry that take an intimate look at psychology and the self.​As these collections come together, I will be sharing exclusive snippets right here on the blog. Keep a close eye out for these previews I would absolutely love to hear your thoughts, reactions, and feedback as the project evolves.​

Enjoy your time exploring, and thank you for reading!

Below see my Three Latest Posts.

  • Using Euphony in a Poem.

    Mythic Whisper Poem


    A thin shiver of hush brushes your cheek,
    as if the dark itself has reached out to speak your name.
    Not darkness
    something older wearing the dark
    like a borrowed cloak.It moves with the ancient authority
    of a presence that has crossed
    too many thresholds
    to bother announcing itself.A breath stirs.
    Not wind.
    Not ghost.
    A hush with lineage,
    a sound born before sound
    when the world was still deciding
    how to shape its first syllable.It circles you,
    a slow turning of warmth and shadow,
    tracing the outline of your listening
    as if mapping a constellation
    only it can see.When it speaks,
    it is not in words
    but in the low thrum
    of something remembering you
    not from this life,
    but from the long corridor
    of before.You feel it in the ribs first,
    a soft pressure,
    a knowing that rises
    like a lantern lit inside bone.The whisper leans closer.
    The air brightens.
    The dark deepens.
    And you understand:This is no message.
    This is a return.
    A calling‑home
    from the oldest part of yourself—
    the part that once walked
    with shadow‑beings and river‑spirits,
    the part that knew how to listen
    to the hush beneath the world.And as the whisper settles
    against your skin,
    you feel your name
    given back to you
    not as a sound,
    but as a story
    you have only just begun
    to remember.

    I have tried to use a particular sound family in the poem.
    This is a whisper poem and I used
    sh / s / th / h / l / m / n / r
    Those are all flowing consonants. They encourage exhalation.
    It is supposed to live almost entirely in breath, hush, shadow and resonance rather than percussion. Try saying the first line out loud and feeling the words.

    A thin shiver of hush brushes your cheek

    Almost no hard consonants.
    You have
    th sh sh br ch
    The mouth barely closes.
    It slides.
    A thin hush shivers across your cheek

    Would it sound better if it was tweaked

    A thin hush shivers across your cheek
    It has great echoes or the first version has the noun phrase shiver of hush?

    Anybody got any thoughts?

  • The changing face of a poem.

    ​“A decade can quietly reshape the syntax of our lives. Recently, I looked back at a poem I wrote in 2016 and felt the urge to revisit it—not just to polish the words, but to see how ten years of living might soften the edges. Here is where I began.”

    ​2016: The Blueprint

    Ode to my life.

    ​I cope with my  life in my own tried and tested ways

    Spreading out my love and keeping fears at bay.

    I know that I have a boundless store of love to give

    So no need to horde it, I can let it live.

    I am less certain about receiving love

    Or sharing other parts of me – some of me is bluff.

    My dreams are horded close and rarely shared

     Illusions, I try to spot then change or kill

    But some exist against my will.

    My tolerance is kept in a box

    I try my best to keep it unlocked.

    Diplomacy is sometimes in short supply

    My bag of diplomacy often seems to run dry.

    Irreverence and humour come from a well

    I drink from it regularly I am under its spell.

    My inhibitions pop into my mind

    Stay with me during the daily grind.

    I cope with my life in tried and tested ways

    Trying to change some of my excessive forays.

    During it all I remain unique

    The pluses and minuses of this priceless antique

    Trying to live, love and be fulfilled.

    Learning from life I am maybe becoming more skilled!

    2026 The expansion

    ​“Ten years later, the rhythm changes. The boxes open. Leaning into the natural music of the words—the euphonics—this is where that same life stands today.”

    Ode to My Present Self (Euphonic Version)

    I carry my life in ways long learned

    slow, steady rhythms shaped by years,

    soft habits stitched through quiet mornings.

    I let my love spill lightly now,

    no longer locked or kept in corners.

    It breathes, it blooms,

    it moves where it is needed.

    Receiving love still stirs a tremor

    I open, then pause,

    my breath held in the half‑lit space.

    Some parts of me bluff their bravery,

    but I cradle them gently,

    letting their small truths rise.

    My dreams stay near,

    not hoarded tight,

    but humming low like lanterns

    waiting for the right wind.

    Illusions flicker

    I catch them quicker,

    their thin light fading

    as I name them.

    My tolerance rests in its familiar box;

    the latch lifts easier now,

    though it clicks on colder days.

    Diplomacy deepens in me

    the dry bag fills again

    with quiet, calm,

    and the long breath of restraint.

    Irreverence and humour

    still well up warm

    I drink from that deep spring,

    its ripple keeping me light

    when the world grows heavy.

    My old inhibitions drift in and out,

    no longer clinging

    to the grind of daily hours.

    They come, they nod,

    they loosen,

    and I let them go.

    I live my life in ways reshaped

    ways refined,

    ways released,

    ways reclaimed.

    I change what strains me,

    and forgive what stays.Through it all,

    I remain wholly myself —

    the bright and the broken,

    the polish and the crack,

    the living antique

    still learning,

    still loving,

    still becoming,

    still skilled

    in the slow art of being human.

    Over to You

    Have you a poem from yesteryear that could be repurposed and given a new slant? Care to share in the comments?