She was barren

A mother land to no-one

Even her children

Forgot how they came to be

She was burning

Scorching from every pore

Her hair catches alight

Often without warning

She was blessed

Defensive tricks abound

The hostility came in waves

Of sand and of sea

She was beautiful

Invaded by curious strangers

Who all took the parts they liked

And brought the ones they missed

Now she was desolate.

Little Ginge x


Gift From God

He sent you a sign

That you didn’t see

A perfectly benign

Giraffe in an oak tree

God is good at this

Playing mind games with your wishes

The story of the genie with clever loopholes

Is the warning of be careful of what you pray for

You prayed all night to him

And he delivered

A stork with a basket

An iguana inside

You tried to love it

Forget it’s tongue

But after all is said and done

You’re too afraid to even feed it

And if you can’t feed your baby

And you can’t make one either

You can’t even return to the sender,

First class and tracked of course

Does that make you a bad mother?

You tried your best

Gave it love, time and energy

It’s not your fault in any way

That it didn’t fancy going vegan.

Little Ginge x


We made a home in your hall
Found your garth quite comfortable for the week
She was a beauty even when in tears
When she had more grief than Van Gogh
We took a tour of her hidden features
Watched her children play with wonder and delight
That I cannot summon up in any city
But when she smiles and the clouds roll over
Bringing out the dimples in her undulating curves
You know she’s a Northern lass for sure;
Broad and inviting with a soul so pure

With which the South cannot compete.

Little Ginge x

All Manner Of Angry Things

The baring of my teeth
in a human and polite way
goes unnoticed
for those with no grasp of subtext

The flailing of my confusion
is masked as a clumsy accident
The waft of papers
settling my nerves

My rising panic lies in
the raising of my eyebrows
Gone and unspotted
if you were looking another way

Despite evolution
Animals get their points across
more effectively than me
I know they’re angry

When their teeth wrap
neatly around my wrist
Not when they walk away

after wishing me a nice day.

Little Ginge x

Science Project #7

All we do is prove to some outside force that we exist
Here we are. Visit us.
We’ll greet you with guns and fear.

But what if they don’t exist?
Maybe we’re alone.
Those small things on Mars, were just that. Small.

So forgive me if I don’t clap for the tallest storey on your creation.
A creation made by a creation.

Because reductively we’re just mould on a science project.

Little Ginge x


The birds twitter utter nonsense to you and I
And yes all their messages are lost to the sky
They chirp and tweet whenever they greet
Conversing as the sun and land meet
And in life there is no greater song

But it is always better not to sing along.

Little Ginge x

A Bad Fetch

I dreamed of blue skies and canine friends that lived forever
In return I received dark clouds and a grief that never heals
The pooch deserved to live on, past his seventeen years
But instead he died, as they must, and so came the tears
And now we have others, and I love them, I do

But you caught balls, and they just run.

Little Ginge x

Best of the Worst

Weather is brave, uncompromising and equal
It’s cloud of confusion will swallow you up
And it’s cold fury will stop you in your tracks
It’s optimism will try to kill you given the chance
And it’s tears will ruin anything you spent time on
I won’t discuss the damage sighing can do
Weather is everything we aspire to be
Taking no-one’s BS; the epitome of undiscriminating
But it’s never stopped us complaining
Looks like even the best can’t win.

Little Ginge x

Winter On The Outside

Winter is always described as bleak
The season of austerity
And at the same time frivolity
Opposites always go hand in hand

With less leaves on the trees
There is much more glorious sky to see
White and the palest blue, unending
Gone too soon every day

Colour reigns the skyline
Mostly gold, reds, greens and silver
The sovereign shades; majestic
Food is a party all of its own

I often wonder why it’s thought as bleak
Why its days are linked with despair
As I give gifts to the ones I care for
And kiss you under mangled trees

I realise it’s the loneliness that separates us
The ones who get no gifts nor kisses
Just a pale clear sky to stare upon

As they think upon the year to come.


Little Ginge x

Head Of A Communist

When you are born with hair of communist connotations
You will always be aware of difference
Some acknowledge it as a positive thing
More often than not; discouraged
My critics were unsure how my barnet affected my personality
Was I more fun?
To be regarded as more intelligent?
Without results; it was filed under ‘other’
Dangerous; and shunned
An open defiance of cultural norms to be stopped
But I see no difference
Instead I see a gap in the market I can fulfil
I may have the head of a communist
Which treated with care is no bad thing
But I have the heart of a liberal

And together they’ll break down your walls.


Little Ginge x