Small Talk


We both throw words on the table
Seemingly meaningless
Reheating recent connection

An almost formed thought
Dances between us
I catch the abstract
Try to reframe it
He nods and in our own way
We both reclaim it

Her eyes don’t match her tone
Not yet
Warm words are offered and she accepts
The gentle heat will make her stronger
Once we’ve heard and held her

“I’m glad”
Sharing photos
Her smile lights her eyes
She shares more small parts
Revealing some of her soul
And we strengthen the collective whole

Her words bounce between us
Gently poking the stronger bonds
Giving permission to be more playful
A reminder that I’m grateful

This small talk
Is bigger than it looks.


It rained for a long time
Just over two years
Then, gradually, it stopped

The rain still comes, sometimes
I’m usually prepared
I see it coming

The puddles though
They appear out of nowhere
And their depth can still take me by surprise.

On writing and coming home

A couple of people mentioned recently that they have not heard anything from me for a while and they wondered whether I was still writing… The answer is an emphatic yes! I have just been writing elsewhere.

Back in January, I talked about my journey from redundancy to self-employment and before that, I talked about being ‘Present’  and how Writing. People. Poetry had gone from being my tagline to being my ‘brand’. Since then, alongside working with my lovely coaching clients, I have completed a few writing projects, updated my own website, and (finally) started a blog there.

Perfection paralysis

In my first blog over on my website, I talked about how trying to write the perfect blog post paralysed me for seven months! It’s only when I dove into that fear and wrote about it that I was able to overcome it and finally get something out there. Here, it’s different. It’s like coming home. This was my first ever blog. I started it to get moving on my journey and although the destination has changed a little (and may well change again), it has certainly done that! I’m not worried about the odd typo as I know it’ll be forgiven. I’m just sharing my thoughts as they come to me (and this post really is a bit of a stream of consciousness) and that’s ok. If I post every week that’s great. If I don’t post for a few months that’s fine too. It’s just where I am on my journey.

Parenting, poetry and coming home

Lately, I’ve been writing a lot more over at my parenting blog, Mothering Mushroom, as being a parent is a big part of my journey at the moment. I’m sure in time I’ll write less there and more here. It is what it is.

I’m rambling…

What’s my point? Well, really, this is a post for those who said they’d missed me (I’m flattered. Thank you). I’m still here. Take a look at my recent blogs and if you like what you read there, sign up for my newsletter (coming soon! I am working on a free gift for everyone who signs up). If you’d prefer to read about parenting and family life, head over to Mothering Mushroom.

If you came/followed me/signed up here for the poetry, here’s a recent poem for you. I will be writing more poetry and short stories as they come to me and this is where I’ll keep them.

Honest Speaks is my first online ‘home’, and although I don’t live here anymore, I’m not ready to leave it yet. So if I don’t see you at any of my other online homes, let’s meet back here again soon.



It looks like it’s snowing outside
Blossom blows past our window
And some people stay indoors, complaining
It’s getting everywhere
It’s really annoying
I sort of agree
But then there’s talk of cutting down trees…
To prevent it happening again
Because we can’t stop the wind

I go out
The tiny petals irritate my eyes and go down my throat, making me cough
But you know what?
Eventually, it dies down
Leaves everything covered in a blanket of blossom
It’s a beautiful mess.

From Circus Support Worker to Thumb Sucking Dentist

If you were here in January, you may remember I blogged about Labour of Love, an artistic project based on the working lives of East Londoners and visitors to the Park. The title above is not a reflection of one person’s working life, but simply the two job titles that stuck with me  once I’d seen them.


One hundred and seventy job titles (click to enlarge)

During her residency in the park, artist Caroline Jupp interviewed 170 people, who all shared their work history with her. These stories were then carefully transcribed by Caroline, who also created a ‘CV’ for each of those who took part. I shared mine in my last post, when I also mentioned one of the histories I’d spotted in Caroline’s shed that had caught my eye was that of someone who had been a Circus Support Worker in the 60s!

From PaperGirl to GolfPlayer via Circus Suuport_HonestSpeaks

Caroline says, “For me, these lists have a certain beauty, like a CV poem”. I agree. This is one of my favourites.

Well, last weekend I was at the celebration event, which marked the end of this project. During the event some of the stories were shared, including a lovely story from a young participant in the project whose job included ‘picking up the socks when Mummy drops them… I’m basically a hoover.’*

My Story_HonestSpeaks Labour of Love book_HonestSpeaks







At the end of the event, everyone received a copy of their own ‘CV’ and transcribed work history, as well as the limited edition booklet in which Caroline shares her thoughts on the project and some snippets of the stories shared with her.

If you’d like to read more stories from the project, head over to the Labour Of Love blog where Caroline continue to add stories from the files.


*I am paraphrasing, so apologies! I just loved the hoover comment!