Posted in Creative Writing, Keats, Nature, Photography, Poetry, Weather, Writing


Ink dabbled over a blue lit sky, leaking when prodded by clouds. Arms stretched to cuddle the blue, embracing the darkness.  

You lie , begging your eyes to remain open until your eyelids droop, cascading night,causing the sun to submit. Lightning up its own invisible world. A halo around a moon.

Darkness flies  like a Raven across the  sky until finally landing .It’s wings still , silent and calm. Echoing the sound of lullabys’ and crickets. Until you purse your lips, a hush fleeing across the land. You sleep, coldness your comfort blanket leaving your starry dreams to escape and twinkle like embers. Frost remennants, your broken dreams because you can’t remain forever. As the cold morning chill leaves your frosty , bitter breath on the land of man until your return.

Posted in Autumn, Creative Writing, Dead, Emotions, English Literature, Fall, Humour, Love, Monologue, Seasons, Self image, Sex, Stories, Weather, Writing

The Mistress of Autumn

The Mistress of Autumn,

You know she’s there.

Squirrel wrapped coat.

Long Raven hair.

“Men ,Oh men .”

She knows where you are.

Her fierce berry kiss..

Leaves a lasting scar.

 Poisonous breath, 

whispers lies in your ear.

Men! Be warned!

Do Not come near!

She will steal your soul and snap it in two.

The mistress of Autumn will tarnish you.

“Virgin.”, she says as she pulls you in.

“Daddy doesn’t allow this.”, she says with a grin.

You roll around in a bed of leaves. 

She sucks you dry.

“Oh Carry on please.”

She tempts, she teases, her arms like snakes . 

Once fucked, your body limp,

 like a rake.

“Have we quite finished?” She asks ,voice of sin.

“No, no carry on.” you say again 

Despite your sore foreskin.

The Mistress of Autumn has you under her spell.

 The Mistress of Autumn won’t treat you well.

The Mistress of Autumn entangles your arms.

“Oh God, Oh no”

You won’t leave unharmed.

Tossing and turning;

 You can’t leave.

The Mistress of Autumn knows she’s a tease.

“Virgin, a lie.” she remarks with glee.

“I thought as much.”  you reply confidently.
Whipped, stripped lying in chains.

The Mistress of Autumn knows you’re to blame.

She digs her nails into your cheek.

“I defeated you, man..I made you weak.”

She saunters off, with a gleeful smile.

” I make you vulnerable, you make me wild.”


Posted in Autumn, blogging, Creative Writing, Dead, Fall, Poetry, Seasons, Weather, Writing

Dear Autumn

Light up my life,

Teach me to breathe.

Night is a blanket.

I need you to see.

Unmask the Darkness.

Cover the cold,

 Through rays of sunshine;

My eyes to behold.

Scatter the leaves, 

Into distant lands,

Majestic colours  into childrens hands.

Through  decay, keep things bright.

The night is drawing,

Out goes light.

Autumn you’re failing..

Hugging the cold.

 Daylight more precious than gold.

Autumn be Summer.

The woman of madness.

of loose morals.

of mischief.

Blooming her flowery buds.

Autumn ,

Be bright,

Be vibrant,

Be there.

Protecting your children with tender care.

Instead you rot ,

Turn brighteness to decay.

You back stabbing beast.

No one wants you to stay.

 Winter , the Ice Queen will get in your way 

The power of icicles jabbing your heart.

The frosty breath killing your soul.

Leaving a trail of death as she walks through the land.

Autumn she’ll kill you if you don’t flee.

Go..Go away now!

Go be free.


Posted in Creative Writing, Dead, Emotions, Poetry, Weather, Writing


An attention seeker. 

Tapping on my roof with little hammers.
Tapp, tapp, tapping. Louder , louder , louder.

Bouncing downwards dripping on my forehead;cleansing my face in autumnal tears as the clouds cry ;  causing  makeup to peel from my face.

You shower me like a baby. Icy droplets shocking my skin like an angry lightning bolt.

Oh heavens how you weep;   grieving for your dead child. Instead washing squirrels tenderly, giggling as you watch them flitter from branch to branch. Taking away your pain.

Giving the rosehips a new coat of polish preparing them for human reflection. Oh rain you cause the mud to grow trapping wellington boots, dragging them into a murky grave.

And yet you still keep bouncing.