She divides her time between writing and running a mental health research charity.
She lives in Gloucestershire, UK and has had poems published in Ink Sweat and Tears, Agenda,
Allegro, Amaryllis, Atrium, Artemis and Sarasvati. www.clairchilverspoetry.co.uk
Consider the lilies of the field…
A line of aspens frames the stream. They flaunt their shimmering summer dresses toss back their hair to taunt the wind, to tease me with their disregard. Beset by gales they bend with grace accommodating to the blow to domination by the wind unconcerned what others think. They stand alone but made more strong by bonds of intertwining branches pity my worldly cares and woes They toil not neither do they spin.
Death of a mulberry tree
The trees mass behind the house thick canopy of summer gone now the skeletons of branches waving long fingers intertwined not love, but desperation anticipating the gale the heft of the wind against their strong frames facing into it going with it giving way to it a branch snaps falls caught by the branches below before the wind catches it again hurls it towards the death wish of the old mulberry tree
Nanny wore silk pyjamas
Nanny slept with David and me in the nursery. Mummy dined in style with her little silver bell to call the servant. At the French Beach, the wash from tankers seems like a tsunami when you are four years old. Sundays at Lake Timsah Mummy wore glamorous shorts, sailed with Daddy while we fished with Nanny with a bent pin and bread for bait. We walked through date palms across the narrow lock the park smelt of heat, exotic flowers I was sick from too much lemonade.