Frances-Ann Norton: Poetry

Delighted to be showing a poem - Golden Bird Sestina in this edition of Haus a Rest zine. https://www.haus-a-rest.com/issue-36-writing-the-space-between . Written during the critical thinking club sessions. The Golden Bird - a sestina   Connections in this story have long lines of multi-coloured Threads. And at the heart of timeless-time, is the Time of Gold .     Enchanted-fox-sister, birds, horses, forests and brothers intertwine in narrative patterns.               The story is an old one, and she who tells it has learned well her craft.     It is embroidered with rich stiches of characters and landscapes of colour.             It begins, as so many tales do, with two brothers who are most outertoumat.   Pulling the wool over the eyes of an indulgent Father is the gift of the outertoumat. Those rogues fooled everyone we will see how they pull on the story’s interconnected Threads.              Two brothers, one sister. A fox offers advice at the edge of a woo

  Fantastic to be featured in Mood Muse Zine on the theme of Hope see the below links to access my poem https://heyzine.com/flip-book/7ff7fc532d.html#page/39 https://www.instagram.com/mood.muse.co/ Stop smashing this puny existence   In the Post-Apocalypse, there is quiet submission, rebellious spirits and noisy thoughts. At the edge of the city is a landscape of slag and gravel, shale and landfill. Wet rills, leaking like silent tears divulge an archaeology of yesterday. Runnels of polluted water condense from drifts of toxic mists. Aimlessly she drives around seeking answers. A nihilistic hopelessness has settled here, an existential loneliness in postmodern moodiness. “SMASH THIS PUNY EXISTENCE” a placard commands. Not yet. Hope is not dead. I see the Little Flower herself, St Therese sitting atop the landfill crag, collecting the by-products of industry. Softly singing to herself and consumptively coughing every now and then. In her hand she reveals the vertebrae of a fish, bone wh

Fantastic to be published in this poetry zine from Canada. With thanks to the editors and organisers. Here is my poem, which was put into a word cloud format.  Icon virgins   Image of the Virgin, in a fountain with Jesus on her lap The water flows from the right Our Lady Life Giving Fountain.   Image of the Virgin, she with her baby, who is the fruitful, the nourishing, Our Lady of the Walled Garden. And on her face she ponders, she sorrows, she sits in a reverie.   Image of the Virgin, she is Our Lady of the Burning Bush. Her clothes are covered in branches of flame and fire. Red hot. Arms outreaching, face inward smiling. The promise of the Old Testament.   Image of the Virgin, she is Our Lady the Never Fading Rose. Her garment vined with plants and flowers, fruitfully pollinating and blooming in their prime. Her garments overgrown with fragrant fruitfulness. Baby in her arms.