Gillian Rhodes

Maur-Anne

Poetry

Strange Flowers

There are strange flowers growing in the garden of my mind. Insidious weeds, they are, but delicate: fresh, luminous...

Poetry

Gracewake

When sleep comes it comes in a wave nothing but time having passed and the whole world gone dark....

Poetry

Known

Let this be known — or not, but known in the knowing, that goes beyond breathing. Let this be...

Poetry

Becoming, Dust

Quietly I have become. Softly, I have vanished and inside I am turning to dust. Golden in the sunshine,...

Start typing and press Enter to search