I have been posting poems during lockdown based on the concept taken from a much earlier poem called 'Cycle Of The Scarecrow' a fantasy piece which tells the tale of a scarecrow who is brought back to life by a witch and walks the fields of Albion. It is a reflection on the changing seasons and of growing old - and the premise of 'what if I had my time again?
It was released today as a digital do...

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The Raising Of The Trickster

When the western sky turns slowly into the colour of an old bruise

And the last orange streaks of daylight bleed from the setting sun

A cold white vapour swirls through the fields of corn its fingers prising apart the stalks

As the lands of Albion darken and strange noises start to crawl from the mist.

At the edge of the fields there sprawls a ...

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Apothecary

Beneath the ancient gallows tree

There sits an old apothecary

Where deep within its ancient rooms

Resides an old man selling ‘shrooms

That he has harvested from soil

Of graveyards where the serpents coil

And if the ache screams in your joints

Just follow where the way-marker points.

The place smells of dust and moist mildew

And the foul dark liqui...

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Blood Moon

“Sweet Katarina, dance for me”,
said the man with the black balloon,
whose face looked rather like a wolf
if glanced in the back of a spoon -
and for each dance she did for him
he would pass her another string
with a midnight helium ball
tied on to its end with a ring.

She danced until her little hands
were full of the magical twine
and the villagers all agreed
they’d ne...

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