you tell me I'm beautiful i say the same you wake up beside me then ask me my name that's small talk, nowadays
The Belfast Question
This story is based on something that really happened to me to when I went back to Northern Ireland in my 20s. I was born there, and my family shifted to New Zealand when I was four. My father was a Presbyterian minister in Country Armagh (termed “Bandit Country” in 1975 by then Northern Ireland…
Two
I scribbled this down when my daughter turned (you guessed it) two. Three years on, I still note down the funny things she says and does. Every year on her birthday I write her a love letter, including many of those notes in it. I talk about the past year and what she has done; how…
The Riches of Love
I wrote this poem in the late '90s. It was published in The Collection of New Zealand Poetry & Prose, 2001. I originally called it "The Troubadour" because it felt more like a song than a poem to me. Then I realised that the song was being sung by a woman - and a female troubadour…
I fancy the Blue Wiggle
I wrote this about two years ago. I rediscovered it today in the process of tidying up my computer files. Stills sums up how I feel about being a Mother... My daughter has emerged from her Bob the Builder phase and is firmly ensconced in her Wiggles one. Every afternoon at 5pm I turn on…
A rose by any other name…
I am indecisive at the best of times (or maybe I’m not), so choosing a name for my blog was an interesting exercise. I wanted something original, something excruciatingly clever, something that would dazzle people with its brilliance, something that would perfectly sum up the essence of my writing and my personality, all in a…
Patricia Bell, Author 