scribbles tagged ‘poetry’

benign neglect

Sunday, November 2nd, 2014 | tags: , ,  |

The garden thrives

Close friendships incubated

Acquaintances fade away

Stalkers try harder

benign neglect
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Sunday, September 28th, 2014 | tags:  |

Sunlight sparkled intricacies through her arctic white hair

Auntie Margaret’s house is immaculate

Not a drop of macassar on her faded, pristine, sofa

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calm in a storm

Tuesday, September 2nd, 2014 | tags: , , ,  |

My bed is a wreck.

2 days of lemsip enabled battling with my bed sheets before I regained post-flu levels of physical and mental calm.  Without Sampo’s sturdy and steadfast body to weigh down the bedding it’s much more likely to find the floor, the walls, the ceiling, the staircase…..

The 6 earrings that I never remove were neatly paired and placed on my bedside table. Apparently, in the middle of the storm I decided to remove and place them in an ordered sensible fashion. I don’t recall doing this, or have insight into why I would do this.  Were the studs weighing me down during some essential battle with some imagined foe of my fever? They’re back in place now.

Full steam ahead…




calm in a storm
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Saturday, August 23rd, 2014 | tags: , ,  |

The muffled loud sounds of the Reading festival fill the chill, damp, garden air. My stomach cramps, cramps, and cramps. I think I’m hungry but the slight nausea makes the thought of eating unappealing. The house devoid of cat fluff, balls, toy mice, freshly soiled cat litter, footsteps. It’s too near clinical. I’ll stop sulking when I’ve stopped bleeding.

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meme collecting 3 positive things including some plagerism

Sunday, August 3rd, 2014 | tags:  |

Lucid dreams
Custard creams
My parents genes

Drop in guests
Long cotton vests
Cats on the internets

Men wearing kilts
Children on stilts

A car that can go
Being able to sew
Spare case of merlot

Raindrops on roses
Whiskers on kittens
Warm woollen mittens

Something nice to study
phoning up a buddy
Being in my nuddy

meme collecting 3 positive things including some plagerism
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let hope move on

Friday, February 14th, 2014 | tags: , ,  |

Freeway ExitThat moment, when you realise “I don’t love you any more

  • When you order a meal and he tells you, again, to be careful about your weight.
  • Walk in the rain towards a warm friendly bar and he says he wants to go home
  • The phone call to say he’s working late

A moment of a relief because of the freedom it implies. A deep seated pain because love is too wonderful a treasure to lose lightly. The desire to hold on, to try to rediscover that love is so strong that the temptation to disbelieve the moment is too often overwhelming. To hold on after love has died in the hope it will reappear in the magical way it first arrived. It can’t be gone for good, surely this is just doubt, just a moment of hurt. Surely love is still there, just hidden beneath the mundanities of everyday life, it’s head will rise again with all the joys that implies. But it doesn’t happen.

Don’t wait too long. Let go. Change direction.


let hope move on
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who’s got who?

Saturday, July 13th, 2013 | tags:  |

The lamp is besieged by agile tumbling moths

Neither can escape


who’s got who?
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passed and past

Saturday, February 16th, 2013 | tags: , , , , ,  |

planted crossThe graveyard at Cemetery junction in Reading town is a ‘Garden Cemetery’, designed and planted to enable visitors to promenade.

Most weekends I’ll take a stroll around the cemetery, enjoying the natural peace and beauty and the wonderful sculptural art placed there as remembrances to people….

passed and past

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rococo hedgerow

Wednesday, February 6th, 2013 | tags: , , , ,  |

Rococo hedgerow

rococo hedgerow
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broken wing

Sunday, January 27th, 2013 | tags: , , , ,  |

broken wingAs the snow recedes it reveals the debris of an unseen drama.

A perfectly formed wing, depaired from it’s partner.

Did the wearer ‘fall’ or were they pushed?


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steam cleaning souls

Thursday, April 26th, 2012 | tags: ,  |

Chapter House Stairs, Wells Cathedral c.1306wearing and tearing

washing and drying

sin ickle stains lifted

away in awarm steam

clearing a pathway to


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source of the Tiger

Friday, March 9th, 2012 | tags: , ,  |

How did Tiger get that particular online psuedonym?

From a ‘pet’ name I gave him at high school and this William Blake poem which sings of his mysterious, creative and beautiful being

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Sea below

Monday, December 19th, 2011 | tags: , ,  |







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Success (Ralph Waldo Emerson)

Sunday, August 7th, 2011 | tags:  |

To laugh often and love much;
To win the respect of intelligent persons
And the affection of children;
To earn the approbation of honest critics
And to endure the betrayal of false friends;
To appreciate beauty;
To find the best in others;
To give of one’s self;
To leave the world a little better,
Whether by a healthy child,
A garden patch
Or a redeemed social condition;
To have played and laughed with enthusiasm
And sung with exultation;
To know that even one life has breathed easier
Because you have lived –
This is to have succeeded.

girls swinging-things, dancing

Success (Ralph Waldo Emerson)
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Monday, May 9th, 2011 | tags: , ,  |

Raddish Crop3 mins from garden to tummy

My first crop was crunchy-yummy!

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blood on the patio

Saturday, April 16th, 2011 | tags:  |

Fresh bloodIf anyone noticed the blood on the patio, they didn’t mention it.

Polite English society or people too busy partying to notice?

I’ll never know.

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no blog entry today*

Tuesday, April 5th, 2011 | tags: , ,  |

* you are imagining the title, the footnote and anything approximating a series of 5 previous none-entries. Please do not comment on or refer to the absence of this post in any public arenas, its existence will be denied.

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Wednesday, March 30th, 2011 | tags:  |

my SIM card is toast

my toast taste like plastic

I’m tethered to a landline while the

support agents’ holdin on, and holdin on, and holdin….

his accent is no form of English that I can understand

pass the whiskey mac…

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Friday, February 25th, 2011 | tags: ,  |

bed gone


moved on

The first in a weekly series – Five-word Flash Fiction Fridays (5F)
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1 wonderful musing »

counting on the waves

Friday, December 10th, 2010 | tags:  |

Kalaloch Beach filtered....

We roast on the beach, submerged in glowing inactivity

Counting the waves while I listen to your mood swell and recede

Riding the tide into the evening we reassure ourselves that

what counts most, cannot be counted

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the benefit of my advice

Wednesday, October 27th, 2010 | tags: ,  |

feeling compelled to share my experience I’ll ask

  • have you tried this…
  • do you know about that…

captive silenced female mannequin

Asking before I’ve heard all the story. Not finding out all the twists and turns in the story as the teller may find it. Not giving full space for the storyteller to explore and reflect at their own pace, in thier own perspective, which is so much more full of more relevant feeling and being.

The story may be about a problem, but the telling of the story may be all that is needed. No solution sought, just the time and empathy of the listener.

Sometimes it’s difficult to remember that even pragmatic advice may not be of real benefit, it may even detract from the real value of talking around the problem.

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mixing my imperatives

Wednesday, September 22nd, 2010 | tags: ,  |


before tell

ending in need

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barrel of love

Saturday, September 11th, 2010 | tags: , ,  |

Locks of love on a bridge over the SieneA bridge over the river Siene is decorated with messages of love.


On the barrel of each padlock is a message of love, some in black pen, some in red varnish.

Beautiful art emerging in one place, bought by so many lovers.

It’s visual, community poetry, in action. Sculpture. Very moving

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ex terminate!

Friday, September 3rd, 2010 | tags: , , ,  |

only big trains from now onThis is the end of short trains,

they will be terminated,

only long trains from now on.

Those French are both assertive and sizist.

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mixing drinks

Friday, August 20th, 2010 | tags: ,  |

me: your glass and my glass together make a full glass!

you: And an empty one

me: I can go to the bar with the empty glass and get a fresh pint in it

you: so you get a fresh pint and I get left with the warm mixed up 2 half pints

me: hmmmm..  probably best that you keep your current half empty glass.  I’ll drink my half then we can go our own ways

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when normal isnt normal

Thursday, August 12th, 2010 | tags:  |

i suffer from mental health

is there something wrong with me

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Friday, August 6th, 2010 | tags:  |

I’m a one girl phobia

I’m a hidden soldier

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para graphical sentences

Tuesday, June 15th, 2010 | tags: , ,  |

when writing blog posts I sometimes find it difficult to percieve where the sentence ends and the paragraph starts

the difference between a sentence and a paragraph

its a para normal experience

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not built in a day

Monday, March 1st, 2010 | tags: , , ,  |

Home can be anywhere, anytime,
It can be in more than one place and time.  
Home is always there and never there.  
Unlike Rome my home doesnt need time to be built.
Like a shadow it follows me around.
Always welcoming,  its presence  waxes and wanes through my days.

Morcheeba sang rome wasn’t built in a day

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reading at Reading

Tuesday, January 19th, 2010 | tags: , , , ,  |

Ashley F Harrold Lesley Saunders reading her work
Ashley F Harrold and guest  Lesley Saunders reading at Reading’s poetry cafe.  

In May one of my most-favourite poets, if I am  allowed more than one favourite, Brian Patten, will be the guest.     That’s as exciting as the delivery of dry chopped wood to a house heated by a wood-burner during a cold-snap when the current supply of wood has run-out.

There appears to be an ongoing controversey about the  labelling and meaning of the sections. These sections, bits,  stages,  modes, are referred to as ‘halves’ by the young bearded Mr. Harrold.   This controversey is revisited at the begining of each cafe meeting to ensure the audience is not suprised by the unexpected onset of an interval or ‘half’.

Many locals take part in open Mic’ sections.   That’s not open micky-taking it’s open-microphone in trendy shorthand.    I’m beginning to recognise some of the open mic  regulars,   especially those who’s work I like.  

In 2004 Ashley  said:

Most of the open mic poets we have are pretty good, I think they must put something in the water in Reading as we always have a decent quality, compared with other open mics elsewhere in the country, which is heartening and inexplicable.”


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