Art Models

Queens of the studio
we sought the other’s company
time within the confines
of our role to reflect
on limited life chances

Paid a pittance we posed
in perfect stillness
projections of abashed love
brushed into our lives
by twelve anxious teenagers

They painted our ordinary beauty
over again every day, beaten by
the pink plait which wound like
laughter down her strong back
carving fold and curve

Our granite lives outside
were hacked in sharp relief
to this academic canvas
where promises were outlined
to be smudged at a later sitting.

One Lovely Blog Award


1. Thank the person who nominated you and link back to their blog.

2. List seven random things about yourself.

3. Nominate 15 other bloggers for the award.

Many thanks to truthsparked for this nomination. I recommend you visit her lovely blog, particularly if you have children and young people in your life.

My seven (not so) random things:

1. The more I write, the more I discover, the more I love to read.
2. I am a poet who has written a novel for grown-ups who believe in story – please follow the link .
3. I believe that where art meets life it can speak through and to our universal spirit.
4. Words are my friends. They love to play. Once they are on the page, they must take their chances.
5. I have sometimes hurt myself and others in my pursuit of authenticity, but find the damage done by denial to be just as great.
6. I haven’t always understood number five.
7. My strength is in the scar tissue which holds me together and connects me to wounded survivors and loving souls.

It is my pleasure to nominate the following blogs for their ability to connect with their readers in various ways, for different reasons. If I’ve nominated some of them before, I’m glad, if it means I can take you there for another look. Enjoy.

Love, Julia x


Antagonistic merger

Said the Ant
Lend me your pheromones
I am an indigenous unifydentity in your midst
and in my considered opinion
the time is right for a spot of
convergent evolution

Said the Ant
Let me table it now:
Will you share your sugar with me?
Commensal living may be your best option
Be sure of this: hymenoptera is rising with flowers
and diversification is the name of the game
Face it, my individual quadrillion minions are
already tap tap tapping your limited resources

Said the Ant
Listen, we dig your cities
rate your capitalist creed – I said creed.
We also have in common a certain sterility;
No, you can’t ignore that lowered
spermatozoa motility

Said the Ant
and I hear you define your borders
and guard them with your lives –
we need those kinds of heroes.

What the Ant did not say
But just a stridulation in your shell-like
(let me crawl right in)
once we have a shop in each of your main streets
and all the others have closed
we’ll stamp you out. So are you in?

Nothing to Lose

L and G
O         A
S          I
S         N
reluctant bedfellows;
Gain forever stealing the quilt
whilst Loss lies facing the wall
cold and crying.

But in the stillness of the night
Gain begins to feel afraid: there is
Too much
hidden beneath the mattress
Too much
resting upon the next day’s transactions
Too much
stacked up and ready to fall upon him
Too many
angry people with a stake in his heart.

Gain taps Loss on the shoulder:
“What is it like to be in your place?” he says.
Loss wipes his eyes and turns over,
he thinks for a while then puts his arms around Gain.
“Let me share the quilt and I’ll tell you,” he says.

Cake and eat it!

This weekend in the perfect weather
we went to a boot sale all together
the stalls were selling standard fare
from books to jam to things to wear

We bought some clothes for a few pounds
and spent some time just wandering round
then when it got to half past three
we were tempted inside by thoughts of tea

St Anne’s in Arscott is a church
so pews are the only place to perch
As we were sitting with our cups
our twelve year old came wandering up

He looked concerned and ate a scone (pronounced sconn)
and then he ate another one
the question that he asked us next
revealed just why he seemed perplexed

Dear parents (he can be quite formal)
I’ve discovered something quite abnormal
Tell me why do grandmas make great cakes
when no-one under sixty bakes?

We scratched our heads and drank our tea
it seemed we had no answers see.
Will our dislike of messy flour
or too much supermarket power
or evolution or education
leave us soon a cakeless nation?

(answers on a prayer book)

September in Shropshire

In our English country garden
morning arrives for breakfast
clothed in misty vagueness
to find arachnid market traders
already skilfully threading
silver baskets between bushes where
a snail’s early yawning turns the head
of a song thrush hoarse from dawn
dew drying in the wan sun smiling
weakly at Fuchsia drunk on rich ruby pallet
who bow to orange Montbretia and ageing
Buddleia bracing itself for the arrival
of those blooming butterfly and bee
bounders regardless of a definite
chill we sit thin jacketed drinking
coffee and eating bread spread
with cherry plum jam ruminating
on the day ahead and the need for
autumn preparation and repair.