Category Archives: Poetry


yewWalking along the path next to the churchyard  overhung by some very large yew trees and happened to glance upward as the sun came out.  The boughs are thick with berries, bright red against the deep green needles and a Haiku simply wrote itself by the time I reached home.

Translucent jewels
Nestling within deepest green.
A toxic beauty


Fables on Murder, Mayhem and More

An excellent review for  Fables and Fabrications on Murder Mayhem and More.

front cover copy“Compact chronicles, seemingly distilling the detail and energy from an entire novel into a condensed, compelling form …  (Edwards)  expertly blends matter-of-fact everyday reality with far-fetched and fanciful notions that somehow seem entirely credible.”


Fables and Fabrications : 9 days to go

Just 9 days to launch for Fables and Fabrications  and the first Amazon and Goodreads reviews have been posted!
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Fables & Fabrications Launch Date 5th May

Just one month to go before the online (Facebook) launch of Fables & Fabrications!  5th May is the date to remember!

To  join us for an evening of giveaway comps and chat sign up HERE !

front cover copy

Date for  print-copy-in-you-hand launch to come!

Miss Dilly in the Dog House

With apologies to Roger McGough!

Pissy Missy Dilly Cat!
What  do you think
you’re playing at?
Squatting there
upon the mat?
Making puddles –
Don’t do that!







(All good poetry comes from the heart  – ’nuff said!)


Half Mile Private View – Tim Diggles

Excellent event

Tim Diggles

Yesterday I had a ‘Private View’ of my Half Mile Exhibition at the historic Burslem School of Art. My old friends George and Christine sent me some photographs they took and here are some. Thank you all for coming I enjoyed it very much I hope you did too. It was lovely to meet old friends I knew when I was 16 and newer friends!

The Show Catalogue is below:


The show is on until March 20th and if you look on this site you will find many more photographs.


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You and Me, Pop; Whist and the Bird Tattoo – Poem

You and Me, Pop; Whist and the Bird Tattoo

Just 90 years young or you would have been, Pop,
Had the fates been kinder – to people you knew,
Did you ever recall – the good times.
When TV blared in the family room, but…
Sing Something Simple – and you and me, Pop,
playing whist on those long winter nights.
Me and you, as the kettle rattled on the Aga hob.
Long walks, and leaning on the gate, where you counted sheep,
pointing your gnarled crook – as they cropped
with heads down and feet stamping,
and the dog, in frustration, herded ducks on the river.
He never caught but one.

That hay dust wheeze, even after the farm,
And your little blue pills beneath your tongue.
The laughter we shared – between you and me, Pop.
And that faded bird tattoo – how I recall you most.
A present from Rome, your spoils of war
Not a heron, you said, nor our Clan’s Tercel might.
It was lost in translation and the Grahams were tamed
Falcon was bluebird, ever searching white cliffs;
Our spiked rose to red sun topping pale lotus bloom,
more fitting your gentleness, in so many ways,
that I often wondered…
Did it become you, Pop? Or you all the while?

The jokes you played on your welsh maid, Annis,
King of wind-up, all po faced and serious
as you fed her line by teasing line…
You never fooled me, Pop.
Those twinkles in your eye – a sure sign every time.
Top brick off the chimney mother always moaned,
But she never understood us, nor ever tried I suppose.
You and me, Pop, you and me,
separated by wounded pride not our own
that festered into feud and fugue to be fed by fear…
and – we lost it all, you and me, Pop. Too late to make amends.

But Happy Birthday anyway and maybe the Downs remember.

You and me, Pop. dad
With our whist … and the bird tattoo.