Twisting / a poem


Ray won’t behave.

She flaunts at me, skipping over the page.

I told her she’s a naïve troubled teen

but she sticks out her tongue – she is so mean.

She’s supposed to be sad

And forlorn, lost

Like an abandoned lamb

bleeting, hapless.


Looking for a mother.

I set her in the wilderness

Amongst stormy moors

I wanted her to be chilled to the bone

By the driving rain

And vicious winds.

But she likes the cold

And runs through the mud

As if it were warm sand

Unbothered that she’s alone

When she should be feeling



from all humanity.

Ray won’t behave.

She was supposed to take a train

A lumbering journey

Of self discovery

But she caught the bus.

How insufferable!

A bus has no atmosphere of dread

With rattling metal tracks

Carving through brooding mills.

It judders, stops and starts

through everyday mundane streets.

She should be wistful

Gazing out to distant hills

And pondering about the pain

Of deep, all bounding love.

Not singing to a classic 70s song

All pop and sweet and, zingy

As she watches people dodging puddles

And dreams

Not of true love or being torn apart

From the one who completes her heart

But… dreaming

Of what to have for tea.

Oh I despair!

That I have lost control

How can this be?

It is the very soul

I created.

Where is the fated path I made

For her to follow;

The errors she must regret

And the people she loves

Who forget

To love her back?

What will become

Of my dear sweet Ray?

As, all creators must accept

I have to let her

Choose her own way.

/about Ray who was supposed to take a train in a quest to discover what true love and loss means but instead caught a bus and went off to the wild moors.

You can see what happens to her – when I finish her tale – in my upcoming eBook: Strange Meetings


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