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  Inspired from the above photograph Rainbow by Helen Patience from the Hold Still digital exhibition , I wrote the following poem. The Duchess of Cambridge and the National Portrait Gallery revealed the winners in 2020, which featured 100 portraits from 31,598 submissions during the project’s six-week entry period. The images aimed to record of our shared and individual experiences during lockdown, and have been exbitited in Times Square in London.    Elephant tusks   Grey, What of grey? A rainbow window. A little girl. Upturning the gravel of her mind. A lassie’s sunflowered Macintosh waves from a distance bending towards her ma’s swan neck cocooned in a tartan scarf. Amber, turquiose and carmene are easy to understand, but what about grey? A woven net of grey weaves infront of her eyes, danglng on a stick. Pencil on paper the girl composes a list: scaffolding, TV aerials, paperclips, guitar strings, tins of peaches, hubs on the car,...

A poem inspired by a conversation with Dorota and Stéphane , with a nod to Debra Basset’s research on digital grieving. The violin, in itself, is not violent. What if, says the artist to herself, the instrument’s lines and angles are a shared mental framework of hidden influences and meanings. The bow, for instance, thrums across one’s deadened consciousness, strokes a beat across the heart and back again. The violin is almost drawing blood in the way it shakes me awake. A violinist can create a crisscross of cuts in the ice of a soul as easily as soothe and glide. Its movements start soft, the space between the notes casting the magic of a first lover’s kiss. Gaining momentum, squiggles on pulped leave dance pirouettes, marionette-like shadows across the lines. I don’t know what it was like to live amongst candlelight and clicking piano keys,  when the only entertainment was string, wind or percussion. The miracle of live...

I went to a poetry reading on the 17 th May, Warwick Arts Centre, at the University of Warwick. Good writing always inspires me to write something, not necessarily good, so this is why that poetry reading inspired me to write a poem. Louis de Bernières is a talented British writer best known for Captain Corelli’s Mandolin. By his name you might expect de Bernières to be French but he is British. It is a shame that authors are not rated by their talent, by their choice of words, the quality of writing, since commercial success outweighs all else, the stories of the powerful survive as history is rewritten from their perspective. De Bernières is fortunate enough to possess both talent and acknowledgment though not as much as he deserves. He talked to a small, yet privileged, following of perhaps twenty people about his lifelong love of poetry, two folders of which he brought with him to delve into. De Bernières, sitting on the theatre stage shared with us that he had overhear...