The Good Folk.

I am a Gypsy woman living in Leeds and on a day to basis I encounter prejudice on the streets and online. I have documented the racial abuse I have experienced in the past six months and turned it into the following little poem. i am not a thieve, gippo or a pikey, i do... Continue Reading →

Featured post

Rising Tides

There is a tide coming in. A tidal wave of grief Giving rise to a sea of despair. These Salty waters harbour Only the tears of the alone. There is a tide coming in And I am stranded. I stand on a shrinking bollard of hope As the wave crest bites my heels And beg... Continue Reading →

Mabel Finds her Voice in Za-ram /dar

Za-ram/dar is home to a brainy and brave Dormouse named Mabel. Mabel has a stammer and the other animals have developed a bad habit of shouting over Mabel. This spells danger when some kittens find themselves in mortal danger and Mabel is the only animal with a logical rescue plan! Will the other animals learn to listen in time?

Itchy Twitchy Noses: Kittens v Pollen

A little rhyme for all those pestered by pollen...   From the flowers and the trees Pollen moved up the breeze Tickling past the kitten's knees It reached their noses with ease.   All pollen's naughty and guarantees To make one's nose feel home to nests of bees! Or in the cat's case, a pack... Continue Reading →

An uncorrupt capacity for compassion

Over the past few weeks, I have been taken aback by people's surprise, happiness and, at times, unease over my targeted demographic for an allegory of the gender transition process: children. Of course, Deborah is not a woman trapped in a man's body or vice versa. If Deborah was a Human, however, and not a... Continue Reading →

Accidental Children’s Author

Three months ago a friend's doodle moved me. It was not an unusually significant drawing. It was a simple black and white drawing of a Hippo, above its head floated a think bubble containing a horn, below text that read: "Deborah knew that, really, she was a Unicorn". That's it. On the whole the doodle... Continue Reading →

Under a Paper Moon

The flies continued to spiral around one another as if they were suspended from an elastic fishing wire. They’d fly past each other to a certain point and then snap back in the opposite direction. It was as if they were not in control of their own aviation and that their courses were predetermined by a higher force. Sean gripped his big toe and chewed his lower lip as he rested his gaunt face on his knees, grimacing up at the insects. He wondered if they were orbiting the fake moon until they could settle on his dead body and convert his orifices into nests.

Bird Calling (A short Story)

My husband’s flatulence has always sounded similar to that of a dying animal, letting out its last groan from its battered body. But this particular buttock breakage was released into the quietest night I have ever known

Up ↑