Saturday, 28 July 2012

Interview with Emma Eden Ramos

Hi everyone just a quick blog post update to say that my interview with the lovely Emma is now available to read on her blog

She thought up some tough questions and some that got me really thinking.

'Which poem is my favourite?' - That was so hard! I thought if I name one will the others know and get upset, and then I realised that words can't have confidence issues and it's just me being paranoid! lol

I did name one as my all time favourite, I remember writing that poem and thinking 'hmm that's weird... I like it!' I think it's the imagery in that poem that makes me come back to it again and again. You will have to read the interview to find out which one! :)

Also she is one of the only people that has asked me how studying psychology at college has influenced my writing - I will always think that psychology is important to everyone! Too many people walk through life half blind as to why they do things and how they affect others! I think for a writer this is even more important. I like to dig deep and find out my own and other's beliefs, sometimes when you can see the bare bones as to why you do something it just seems ridiculous! :)

Here is the link again to her lovely blog - Interview with Poet Jade Kennedy

Have a great weekend. 

Wednesday, 25 July 2012


I was falling into dreaming,
of a lush desert,
with starlight blue cacti.

I was enveloped
in their tribal, astral aroma
                             when I saw you,
as a part of the moonlight
on the burnt desert sand.

You pointed to the constellations,
                                 named them.
They formed a compass.
A zodiac without a sense of north
wandering fearfully across its cloth of sky.

We were lost together,
warmed from the outside in.
Our voices withheld,
for there was too much to share
under a moon that has no place.

I entered 'Starlight' into the Bridlington Poetry Competition this year, I didn't win anything.

I really love the light and airiness of this poem and it is one of my Mum's all time favourites. I write a lot about stars, dreaming etc. I don't like to write about the mundane parts of life. What better subject is there to write about than dreaming - where anything can happen and the possibilities are endless. If I ever wrote a novel it would most likely be a fantasy novel! lol

I also love all the myths and stories associated with the moon, they are varied and magical. The moon is nearly always connected to women, our cycles, emotions, nature and animals (especially hares in Celtic beliefs). The moon/night is for the feminine the sun/day is masculine and in poetry this can be turned into all sorts of play on words and imagery.

In other news from Kennedy HQ, I am to be interviewed about 'Silver Threads' and all things writer-ish by Emma Eden Ramos for her blog. I'll let you all know when I know more. 

I have been busy writing again and I have another page of automatic writing and have written a flash fiction piece! Proper flash fiction (about 850 words), not micro fiction, I'm getting better! lol It's inspired by the book I am reading at the moment 'Virgin Earth' by Philippa Gregory, which is set in England and Virginia in the mid 1600s. It's fascinating and mentions the Powhatan People, I just love it. I might post it on here at a later date - keep checking!  :)

Saturday, 21 July 2012

Shameless Promotion for the Gorgeous 'Silver Threads'

I want to share with you all today the little snippets, secrets and reviews of 'Silver Threads'. Partly to cheer myself up with the lovely things people have said about my writing and also I thought my avid readers would find the little secrets very quirky to say the least! :)

Below are the two reviews on Amazon. It's such a rush to hear your writing described as 'An Enchanted read' - just for one minute it makes all the little speckled gremlins, that sit on your shoulder and tell you 'You can't write!' It makes them shut their mouths! Also it's lovely to know that a reader of my blog went and bought 'Silver Threads' :)

An Enchanted read

'Silver Threads' is a beautifully crafted collection of poetry that touches the essence of what life is all about, in all its shades and hues of hopes, dreams and desires. Intimately observant of the human condition and our idiosyncrasies it feeds a hunger that I never knew I had - and leaves me greedy for more. From 'Anachronism' (Time has twisted, moulded and warped. Like flexed steel fused at a particle level....) through to 'If Only' (...fingers tinted in poetry, painted in midnight blues by circumstance) Jade's imagery is rich and deep - and asks that you join her on an enchanted journey, leaving your other 'self' behind.

A must read for those new and old to poetry!! 

I had read many of Jade Kennedys poems on her blog and was so moved by them that I had to have her book! I found myself being taken back to memory's from childhood. I felt that some must have been written for me, I related to the emotion within them so much. They create such vivid visuals for me, it's almost like you are a part of the poem, helping to create it. They help me tap in to a deeper more mystical side of myself, and once I'm there I love it!!

I highly recommend...

So as promised I'm going to let you into a few secrets about the poetry in 'Silver Threads' I won't name the poems though, because that would spoil all the magic! 

They say that inspiration can come from anywhere! That's really true because one poem in 'Silver Threads' was inspired by a Windows screensaver! No I'm not kidding, if anyone has any ideas as to which one it is I'd love to hear from you! :)

There are a few poems in the ebook that I have written laid in bed, from the first word to the last! I was trying to get to sleep and the words of the poem just keep going around and around in my mind. Luckily I remember them the next day and write them down.

One poem is about where I grew up and has a real life event as it's ending. When I was younger I 'ran away' - I can't remember why, but I just took my toys, no food or money and thought I could live quite happily at the side of a pub! Thankfully it was only around the corner from where we lived and some nice teenage girls took me home! lol If you have read 'Silver Threads' that one might be a lot easier to pinpoint then the others.

If you want to buy the delightful 'Silver Threads' and make my day, the link is at the top in the 'buttons' or click the front cover at the top of the posts on the right. 

Have a great weekend everyone :)                            

Tuesday, 17 July 2012

Glass Butterflies

Childhood dreams fluttering
as radiant and fragile as glass butterflies.
So short and beautiful,
those sun-kissed days of summer.
Evenings filled with transparent wishes
and innocent musings on love.

This poem was written on for a picture prompt contest. The picture above wasn't the picture that inspired the poem. The original picture was a black and white image of a child and the contest holder wanted something short. I really do love this poem. Writers are always asked (well at least novelist anyway) how much of their own personal experiences go into their writing, I've never heard about this being asked to a poet but it should be! 

I think that I have captured part of my own feelings about my childhood in 'Glass Butterflies' I sometimes remember vividly the things I used to believe when I was younger and how strange they seem now but at the time they seems so concrete and 'real'. Once on Christmas Eve when I was about 6-7 I would have swore I saw the northern lights of the north pole bringing Father Christmas. It wasn't until a few years later that I realised that the 'northern lights' were the lights from the factory not far from us! lol 

Things in childhood are short lived and fleeting, just like butterflies. 

Saturday, 14 July 2012

Always Yours - A Tetractys

This was my first and only attempt at writing a Tetractys. A Tetractys is a poem with a syllable count of  1,2,3,4, and 10. This one is a double Tetractys, with the reversal of the syllable count as well, to give the poem a diamond shape. I wrote this on for a competition, I think I did quite well but can't remember if I won anything.

The beautiful picture is drawn by the lovely Carl, he loves drawing anything in an amine style. I felt like I needed an extra bit of love and kindness today. 

I hope you are all having a great weekend :)

Thursday, 12 July 2012


She had been lost in thought and hadn’t realised where she had been walking until she ended up here again. The memories hit her like the acrid smell of fresh paint from a spray can, reminding her of the taste of it in the air as her name was written across the gate. It was too many years ago now and she didn’t want to remember the years that had flown by, the pain that was still real. She sat on the parched ground cross legged, her shoes scuffing the earth and causing miniature dust clouds.

She moved her hand across the graffiti scrawl of her name and his, still entwined. Where would he be now? She was sure he would still be a caffeine addict, he would still have that half-hearted smirk when he realised that he had hurt her. He would boast of his artistic genius and pull apart modern artists as ‘just amateurs.’ She would never forget the vibe from his wiry frame sitting next to her, pulling her lips to his, tasting his bitter kisses and leaving marks of faded paint on her cheeks.

This is my entry into the 1000 words flash fiction competition. The brief was to write a flash fiction piece in 200 words or less based on the picture above. I didn't win, but I wanted to share this with my readers and see what you all thought? It has been a traumatic week to be honest and I haven't written anything since this piece.

I used to love the picture prompts on and even thought I am only just experimenting with flash/micro fiction I wanted to give it a go. I have noticed things about my writing style whilst experimenting;

I never give anyone a name - I suppose prefer the mystery of he/she and I prefer describing emotion and feelings, rather then giving an identity. 

I never write dialogue - I think this is probably because I can't write dialogue. When I have tried in the past, the characters sound wooden and childish.

I am rubbish at naming my work! - This sometimes goes for my poetry as well. I hope people see past the titles to the writing and love it! lol

I enjoy writing thoughts, I like being lost in a persons mind and relaying what I see and hear in my writing. Maybe I am just a born poet and I can't really write fiction, but I'm starting to hope that I might be bringing a essence of poetry into fiction and visa versa.

Hope you all have a peaceful week :)

Monday, 9 July 2012

First glowing review for 'Silver Threads'

'Silver Threads' has made its first appearance into the world of book reviews and the report has come back glowing! 

My first poetry collection has been reviewed on the blog Cafe Reads, which is written by the lovely Amy Pollard, who I met on the website She is a student living in America and is obviously a huge literature addict and this passion and love shines through in all her reviews. 

Here is part of her review of 'Silver Threads' ~

'The accessibility of the poems, along with Kennedy's impressive grasp of the English language, makes Silver Threads truly a pleasure to read. I highly recommend this poetry collection'

See the whole review here - Review of Silver Threads and please check out the rest of her blog. It's a must for book lovers everywhere.

She gave 'Silver Threads' a 9/10! This review made my day, especially since I had a rejection email this weekend from a ezine I submitted to and had bad news about a flash fiction piece I had submitted to a competition elsewhere. So thank you from the bottom of my heart Amy and I also hope this entices more people to check out the 'pleasure' that is 'Silver Threads'

A very happy Monday to everyone :)

Friday, 6 July 2012

Still Waters

This well is far too deep, deep and black,
a watery void.
These dark grey aging stones are holding onto the surface
with bitter ambition.
Old and darkening, adorned with olive-green mosses.

This well was built by my hands,
each stone laid down under a waxing moon.
I am fated to drown beneath its brown shameful waters,
waters that flow so deep they touch
the very Past, Present, and Future.

I will sink ever further through stagnant tides
with my lungs overflowing and my eyes blind.
Sinking past the places beyond
the light of the living world

I will touch the solid core of the Earth with cold lifeless hands and wish that I did not feel.

This poem is very apt today seeing as Yorkshire is soaking wet through. I wanted to share some of my darker poetry, life isn't all sunshine, sometimes our feelings can eat us alive. I wrote this in 2010, after finally finding the right words to describe my emotions and how deep I feel that they run. I described them to Carl as a deep well, I sometimes feel like I am drowning. I'll bet many people who have suffered depression would relate to this poem.

I have been bullied throughout my life by people at school, my so-called family and even people wanting to be my friends. I cannot understand why people feel the need to try to destroy other people and no matter how 'small' you try and make yourself, they still take the time and effort to make you feel worthless. We also live in a society that seems to accept the bully and the victim 'should learn to deal with bullies' because they exist in society and no-one is going to make them change their ways! Why do they exist then? Because no-one says that this is wrong! and I am not just talking about obvious bullying. Many people are bullied (including myself) by manipulation, talking behind your back, turning others against you. All the while smiling and pretending that they are just trying to do their best for you. 

Maybe it isn't just a matter of coping with the bullies?  How many people are suffering depression and anxiety at the hands of others' cruelty rather than a chemical imbalance/grief etc? Maybe if people were just kinder to each other then the growing rates of people off work and on tablets for depression would fall and many would be able to breathe again. 

Tuesday, 3 July 2012

Automatic Writing

It was that magical moment when the first word lay heavy on the page, feeling its own existence. I would start from that word and follow the rest until they became fluid, liquid and follow the images into caves and between meanings. 
She came dressed in lime green, held my arm and whispered of trees that knew so many things. She was born on a Wednesday during a burning heat that lasted for weeks and fell out of love on a Sunday. She talked with her mother for hours, of cream coloured letters, she was unique and varied.

I knew her when she was ready, she was nervy, promising me that she would take me to Tunisia to count the grains of sand and blow them into a picture of her and me and that that would be perfection. She was the hunter of perfection, she told me once that she found it between the panes of glass in a window when it rained. She said it looked like a snowflake in its infinite perfection. 

It lasted for days and grew in the window pane until she told it she forgot to believe and it snuck away. Fantasy always lives just under the fingertips of those who don’t fight the printed inch, weave words as thin as skin and bright as snow. 

This is an tidied up version of an extract from my automatic writings the other day. I sat down and I felt the need to write, usually when this happens there is an idea floating about in my head and I feel the need to finally get it down onto paper. But in this instance I had nothing in my head so I decided to just start writing anything that came to mind and see where it took me...

Automatic writing can be used as a great tool in many ways. It is great for venting feelings of anger in a safe way. I also imagine it's a great way to think things over privately, just you the pen and the paper, mulling over ideas and feelings you wouldn't want to share with others. Some people even use it to talk to God or whatever/whoever they believe in, it is true that it's a amazing experience and you feel like you are connecting with something else other then your creative side. I would love to hear from any other writers that have used it to help in their writing.

For me the other day sat at my computer, typing away, it felt like a release. A release of all the bits and bobs of creativity that never find a home, never become part of a poem or piece of fiction, but still exist in my head. It also felt like a warm up, the only way I can describe this is like a singer warming up their voice before a performance or an athlete stretching and running on the spot. Everyone accepts that you can't go from dead on your feet to a manic work pace in an instant! lol Anyway I hope you enjoy my auto-ramblings, it's a strange view into my mind but I really do love the imagery I have captured along the way. Some parts may even find their way into a new poem and fulfill their destinies, who knows!


Sunday, 1 July 2012

New Poem of the Month for July - Sanctuary


Enfolded into,
his arms, his
scent of sugared dark earth
His taste of,
fresh salted caramel.
The colour of,
young green wood,
sun warmed,
aroma of baking bread.

His smell is enticing,
on my tongue, heightened
I experience his stubble,
on the inside of my lips.
His skin is lightly spiced,
brushed with
love and ripening promises.

I wrote this poem a few months ago now and it is obviously about my husband Carl :) 

I wrote it late one night when I was really tired and I came to bed and curled up next to him, this poem is more sensual rather then sexual.
I don't know if it's all men or just Carl but when he is asleep he just smells wonderful! lol Odd I know! but it's also about that moment when you are completely safe, wrapped in his warm arms and unconditionally loved. I lay there in bed with this poem forming in my mind and trying desperately to describe this moment and his comforting smell. A lot of the descriptions that came to mind contradicted each other, but still wove a great image :)

I hope you all enjoy July's new poem of the month and also the picture, which I think really encapsulates the poem. It is from the film Orlando by Sally Potter (based on the book by Virginia Woolf) and it's one of my favourite films.