a mobile generation

A mobile world,

a mobile phone

a mobile life we seek to lead-

moving, travelling, chasing some need

As Generation Y

we find ourselves

hunting for a home,

searching the New Territory; an internet drone.

Instagram, snapchat, facebook, tweet

“This food looks great…

Let’s take a pic before we eat”


Some break off, “Slow down” they warn

Getting smaller and smaller

as the connections get shorn-

But how to return to a less mobile life

Perhaps more steady,

perhaps with less strife?

How to be less available

to a world demanding more-

More time, money, thought consumption

it outsources many a chore

whilst trading in for new ones as we

tap, chat, send and reply

To an message we’re late for

that’s only just come by.

Mobility is wonderful,

it is freeing indeed

but just ensure we’re not the ones

trapped in with created need.



The Year Long Patient

Will held my hand with his own;

I could feel the calloused skin which turned dirt for years-

Growing a living out of the earth

Finding water where there was no rain,

Making shelter where there was all sun.

He turned my ear with his sighs;

I remember him stumbling over the phone buttons

As he asked me to call his wife

To tell her the truth of his health,

That he’d likely not make it home with his life.

He caught my gaze with his eyes;

Eyes that had been taped shut through

Procedure after procedure after procedure –

Eyes that had blinked through

Seven hundred and thirty tea times on the ward,

Eyes that had seen through

Over a thousand changes of nursing shifts.

Will shared his own hopes;

Telling us that he was still there –

Trying to fight as hard as he could,

That we should leave no avenue unexplored,

No options unconsidered – a battler til the last

He held on that day – when all hope was crumbling away

As his family kept vigil by his side

Two days later he did know it was his time to go

And he left us with an ache in our heart.

The bell tolls

The bell tolls

to tell the time-

the time that tells

of trials and trophies

waxing and waning

like the moon in each cycle.

She alone watches

every sigh in the night

but can ne’er push forward or back

the times.




She slept; hands tucked in pockets, knees close to chest, head leaning against the glass window. Outside the trees flew by, branches brushing hand to hand in a great chain of well rehearsed dancers. The sun peeped through the thatched cloud roof, birds sang sweet  autumn. All the while she slumbered gently as the earth spun around over and over in rhythm with the universe.


He stood at the edge of the platform staring down the cold steel tracks.

“Dying is hard but living is harder” he spoke defiantly. He walked on.

The courage to live is one of the greatest of them all.


Holding the broken pieces delicately, she wondered at how they had fallen apart without a sound. Superglue worked with everything, right?

Can you capture a story within 140 characters? The challenge set out by: http://www.nanoism.net

Woven and Spun

We watched in bright eyed wonder at the
woven threads of gossamer
blushing ever brighter,
halo spinning faster
round the pine-wood stave.

The tangible clouds of
candied memories-
recalled a time of childhood, cotton blankets and carnivals,
and once held but for a moment,
melted into the stuff of fairy stories, sweet nothings and smiles.