The Muse: The CASE for Writer's Block The mists had come, the night was still, the moon was sick and shy, The sun had set but still its blood was dripping on the sky. And at her desk she took her plume and dipped it in her ink, The virgin page was panting in its…
Scar
I never thought I was very good at writing poetry. I still don't. But Anna Jackson has convinced me I should do it anyway. The NZ poet and academic has recently published a wonderful book called Actions and Travels, about the joys of poetry. And the greatest joy, perhaps, is that anyone can write it:…
Let me tell you about joy
I deactivated Twitter and Facebook this week. I'm not sure how long for. It's called a sanity break. Social media dominates our lives and minds and I'm no longer willing to let that happen without my agency. I feel my adrenaline pumping and my outrage and anxiety spiking every time I see a clickbait headline…
Spring is Coming
Today I took a photo of the first spring daffodil to bloom in my garden. As I posted it to to Facebook, I started crying. Just over three years ago I moved into my home after a heartbreaking but necessary separation. I was sad, excited (weird, I know), confused, and frightened. I had no idea…
Ten Years Today
Ten years ago today, at 12.51 pm, a massive earthquake struck the Canterbury region of New Zealand. It was centred only 6.7 kilometres from the centre of the city of Christchurch, which suffered severe damage. 185 people died. Countless more were left homeless, terrified, psychologically scarred. They were now the reluctant custodians of a ruined city.…
My Mother has Dementia
My mother was diagnosed with dementia almost two years ago. My father found her spooning marmalade into a wine glass. That, along with her slurred words, her frustrated struggle to form coherent sentences, and her propensity to sleep most of the day were early clues. After a puzzling few months during which none of us…
Welcome, beautiful boy
A year ago today I was standing in front of the Mona Lisa in the Louvre museum in Paris with my daughter, speaking to my ex-partner (my daughter's father) via FB Messenger, reassuring him and telling him to take deep breaths, to trust the doctors, and to have faith. He was about to witness the…
The most usual lie
I wrote this poem some years ago, but I have taken it out today and dusted it off, editing it here and there. I removed a whole verse and changed words and line structure and some punctuation. It feels more authentic now. Sometimes revisiting a piece reminds us how far we have come, and how…
If it’s Left, it’s Right
This poem is about finding our way as we navigate intimacy and vulnerability and new spaces in our lives. I wrote it very quickly, although it had been whispering to me for some time, in my head. Sometimes I sense when a piece needs to be written: I feel an "itch" on my mind and…
Mother
I take your hand as we prepare to cross the road. You sigh into the safety of me, and I grip tighter to tell you that I love you. I kiss your forehead as you sleep and as you breathe in, breathe out, your face free from pain in loose and dreamy folds I straighten…
Patricia Bell, Author 