after Kait Quinn My marbles, my mind, my temper when I was just five and the world kept turning in spite of my stubborn hands and feet trying to scale the stars. Breadcrumbs and balls of string; every attempt to find my way back home again; to savour the word again as it slips … Continue reading Things I have lost
Sometimes the wind whispers, calls through the trees, whistles through cracks and we listen for danger, for tangible nightmares. A footstep on the stair, a scratching at locks. Sometimes shadows play death upon the bedroom walls and we wonder which darkness is safer. We forget the many names of bravery. We forget valour can … Continue reading Ode to being brave
I followed as the trees grew their leaves and leaned, green, into summer; I greeted the magpies who appear each day past the heat of noon; and I smiled as bluetits bobbed like feathery bubbles from bough to bough. Poem & photograph: © Kristiana Reed 2020 Between the Trees UK Between … Continue reading Silver linings in quarantine
then I hope the butterflies are just as beautiful / and the seas just as tempestuous / because I am learning to love / my squishiness and storms / and I want every version of me / happy / sullen / and wicked / to find stony strength in such fragility / I want every … Continue reading If there are infinite parallel universes (after Michelle Awad)
blossom - alive and wilted / bonfire smoke and cake / fresh air lingering on clothes / finding limpet fossils aged six / learning about everything which came before you / stones made of glass / pinwheels stuck stoically in English sand / rain storms and rainbows / the city of Rome and how I re-taught … Continue reading Things that don’t suck (after Andrea Gibson)
NOW CLOSED. To say thank you for all of your support I am running a giveaway! Two people will be chosen at random to receive a signed copy of Between the Trees, my debut poetry collection which was released last May. The giveaway will be open for seven days; it will close on Friday, 8th … Continue reading *GIVEAWAY* Between the Trees
Route 62, the pink and purple bus fading like a disappearing sunset, which always passes beneath a lamp which flickers - the orange eye wearing a halo of feathers, the seagulls too far from the sea. Homeward bound - bus ticket in hand, paper turned redundant, used and crumpled, left in a pocket to fall … Continue reading Route 62
I hope you realise you are the salt of my earth. The roots which reach ever deeper. I hope you realise one day how much more you are than you have believed before. You are waxwings in the trees arriving on winter’s doorstep in stoic defiance. You are warmth in the bitter cold. I hope … Continue reading Brother
Last year began as the previous one ended - quite literally and in the sense I still had vast mountain ranges to climb. It’s a metaphor we use constantly but I couldn’t think of anything more apt; anything more deceptive than a mountain peak disappearing into the clouds. A few months into the year, I … Continue reading Age 25
Mother, a green woodpecker floated to the ground today with grace and poise before plucking the soil with its ebony beak, and I thought you would like to know how much simpler life has become, how quiet the weekends are that I notice a bird I’ve never seen before, and watch it for longer than … Continue reading Mother
