Naomi Girl

Naomi girl,
Confident as a conker

Shiny, whole and 
fresh. 

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Harvest Home The afternoon Spent luxuriously In a plastic chair At the bedside of mum Dozy, pale, frowzy Her legs just like mine Under cellular blankets The kind I look at and think “that won’t keep you warm” But turn out to be toasty Drip and cannula, blood pressure Cups of sweet tea Dry air, warm air Nurses chat I tune out Who knows if this is normal? We close the door and The quiet envelops us I close my eyes to pray Apart from kind nurses popping in It’s a flower centre With petals closed It’s a cocoon of blissful rest It’s a four poster feather bed With the curtains drawn. Its enwrapment of love And one, two, three hours go by In quick succession And I with my book reading A poem at a time. The costa guy asked what I was Reading – “Modern Women Poets” And he said “Nothing there for me” Why not? Men can read Poems by women. And the time runs through a sieve And the next thing the nurse say...
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Chap Book #5 Confronting the unknown

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  Delighted to be published in: Chapbook #5. Confronting the unknown:   Bridges By Frances-Ann Norton   Her story is a molten mirror, white hot with reflected truth. Her almost-escape haunted her. Reliving it at odd quiet moments in her monotonous day at the production pottery. She had nearly been free, changed forever. Her hand was on the car door-handle as the light turned from green to orange to red. It was a turning point but she did not turn, a chance not taken. This time.   Later at work surrounded by bisqueware, she sobbed for an hour in the dust. Her escape-plan, her dream lover, was an illusion, beautifully cooked up. She was an automaton, every emotion tamped down. Feeling was dangerous. In the studio signing pottery in rich red oxide and then dipping the bases in boiling wax, She stood there like an Egyptian hieroglyph, arms raised above the hot wax, pot in hand, thinking. Piecing out her story until it reached this ...
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Yellow Bunny Frances was born in 1969 at Leeds Maternity hospital, (this is going somewhere, I’ve got a plan honestly) and was given a yellow rabbit by a lady from Ann’s jewellery evening class. (Those ladies loved mum.) Ann had two significant car crashes in 1968 and 1969 and had broken her pelvis and back. Right before the birth she had a blow out and flipped the car right over on the way home from Harrogate. Ann says her shoes were stolen while she was unconscious. (This is relevant It’s all part of the story). [Sometimes a story is slow in the coming like Frances was being born.] Ann suffered terribly at the birth Still recovering from her injuries Ann was unable to sit up or hold her new baby. Frances and Yellow Bunny went on a trip to Huddersfield, with Uncle Bobby, Aunty Susan and Cousins Philip, Janet and Rachel. Hours, days, weeks, months went by. Who can tell how slowly of fast they passed. She was a baby. {Not yet conscious o...
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