Widely published over many years in numerous magazines, journals, anthologies and competitions Currently preparing a collection. Lives in a suburb of Preston with his wife, who’s friend, critic, muse and editor. Plays acoustic guitar averagely to her singing.
At the checkout the frail old lady, watery eyes sunk in a pale face, implies shabbiness to a bypassing world. Still she smiles. There are three items in her basket without choices, and the price is paid by unsteady hands with coins skilled in survival techniques. She is being reduced to a learning curve on subsistence levels by such economies she faces daily without complaint. Poverty that stalks her will outlive her, but her life is a revolt against all the lives she had no chance to live, enjoyed by others. Is this called progress?
And what if fear should accost you and take away your very breath. And what if this fear wore an expensive suit, read the weather forecast. And what if it was too late to turn back and catastrophes were eating life styles, disasters counting deaths. And what if nobody was left that you could pray to, all the experts were suddenly speechless, warriors laid down arms for the final battle, and rulers went missing after failing to inherit the earth. What words would you have to offer your descendants? Responsibility is coming to a face near everyone, and what if sorry isn’t enough. We live our lives looking in a false mirror, whatever will be left we will deserve.
A SUBTLE PAIN
Maddy has a passion for walking the streets, looking for diamonds always missing from her life. When she returns, a recall of faces is threaded together into the anchor of a happy ending. She pours a drink, rehashes the blessings of living alone, lets the tears flow on a subtle pain. She faces the future like an envelope without an address.