broken heart

Often it’s not,

The act that destroys,

But the betrayal of trust,

The secrets and lies,

I could have forgiven,

If you’d told me the truth,

And buried the rough,

Beneath all the smooth,

But you stole away choice,

In pretence and deceit,

Imprisoned suspicion,

Made my faith obsolete,

You left me to drown,

In an ocean of doubt,

Floundering in silence,

Not able to shout,

So how can I love,

When I know it’s a lie,

Yet how can I leave,

When I can’t ask you why?


Walking Away

Hearing you say,

Those words,

In a whisper,

You loved her more,

You knew when you kissed her.


Wishing the darkness,

Could erase,

All you did,

Blinded by anguish,

I am unable to forgive.


Closing the door,

On the life

That we shared,

Turning the key,

And wishing you cared.


Walking away,

From the pain,

And the sorrow,

Leaving today,

In search of tomorrow.



Every time you hurt me,

You said it was the last,

And every time you lied to me,

You said it was the past,

Every time you cheated me,

You told me you were sorry,

And every time you hid from me,

You told me not to worry,

Every time you deceived me,

You promised not again,

And every time you fooled me,

You promised that was then.


Every time you said those words,

I cried a little more,

And every time I heard those words,

I died a little more.

When You Were Mine – The Beginning

Earlier today I wrote the poem ‘When You Were Mine’ and it got me thinking. Which is often dangerous, or so I’ve been told. Anyway, I started to think of the wider story and wrote this bit of prose to go with the poem. It’s something I think I might work on to make into a larger piece, perhaps a novella. I’m also thinking of incorporating an earlier poem ‘Below Stairs’ into it, got to get a bit of passion in there………..

The early morning dawn rose sleepily across the meadow. A heavy cotton mist trailed a blanket over the ground and the silence sang heavy across the earth. Jenny rubbed at her eyes, and then twisted her arms out high above her head. She savoured the emptiness of the early hour. This was her favourite part of the day; it was when she allowed herself to dream, to imagine she was somewhere else. There was no specific place or particular town she thought of. It was just the feeling of being free, away from here and the chains that held her captive.

She looked across at the sleeping bundle to her left.  She heard the gentle hum of his breathing as his small rounded chest rose and fell in slumber. Her breath caught, as it did every time she looked at the child. She had never truly known what love was until she held him in her arms. He had raced from her belly like the devil himself was charging. Her ferocious need to protect him had immediately banished the terrifying and bloody labour she’d endured on her own.  As she cradled his wet bloodied flesh to her own it was as if a hand had reached in to both their chests and melded their two hearts into one.  She was complete.

She heard his breathing change and quickly lifted the thin blanket and lowered her feet to the cold wooden boards. She shivered and pulled the blanket over her shoulders as she lifted him up and secured him to her chest. A little dimple quickly opened in his cheek as he suckled greedily. She closed her eyes and waited for fear to replace her dreams, as it did every morning when the household woke. That was when reality crept back into view. Below her she could hear the stable lads whistling, the sound of forks against stone, of straw being lifted and the tap of hooves on flags as the horses were led out into the morning sunlight.

Jenny opened her eyes and instinctively wrapped the blanket further round the baby as she heard feet on the steps that lead to the room above the stables. The wooden trap door slowly creaked opened and a flex of white hair appeared through the gap.

“Morning miss, how’s the wee un this morn” whispered the aging gardener, Bill Compton, as he propped open the door.

“As hungry as ever Mr Compton” she smiled back at him, adjusting herself trying to spare both their blushes.

“Cooks been asking fer ya already Miss Jenny, you betta get a wriggle on if you don’t want your hide tanned again”

She could sense the anger in his tone as he lowered his eyes and could hear him muttering to himself as he struggled to clear the opening and climb into the room.

“It’s not right Miss, and you and me know it”

She lifted the baby away and handed him over to his outstretched arms.

“Now Bill, enough of that, I have no choice, how else can I keep Jamie with me?”

The old man looked at the cooing bundle snuggling in his arms and he felt his heart break for them both. James William Lacey, had a mop of dark hair and piercing blue eyes, and if that wasn’t proof enough, that ancestral dimple of his surely sealed his paternity.

“Get yourself over to the kitchens and I’ll get the little un outta here and over to the cottage, Mrs Compton’s fair itchin for him” a beaming smile lit the weathered lines of his face.

Jenny couldn’t help smile back. The old couple were like family to her now and the only two who knew about little Jamie. But she knew what they were sacrificing to help her and she prayed they were never found out. The Duchess of Belcombe, was a cold hearted woman, evil to the core and Jenny knew if the Duchess ever found out she was still here her life would be over, literally. But what made her shiver to the bone was that she knew Jamie’s life would be over too.

The war with Spain had made widows and orphans out of many. The Duke of Belcombe had not been the only one lost overseas. Jenny swallowed the tears back down, she couldn’t think of him, not now. She had to protect her son, their son. She held her shawl tightly across her chest as she walked towards the kitchen. From an upstairs window a dark shadow watched the lone figure across the courtyard. Heavily made up features twisted into rage and a seething sense of hate prickled under her skin. The Duchess of Belcombe was thinking of murder…………

When You Were Mine

I loved you in the springtime,

Among scented cherry bloom,

In fields of emerald meadows,

In a past when you were mine.


I held you in the summertime,

In warming rays of gold,

Our arms entwined in rapture,

In a past when you were mine.


I sang to you in autumn time,

In a lullaby of burnished hue,

The melody of heartbreak felt,

In a past when you were mine.


They came for you in wintertime,

And they gave you to another,

Glistening tears like snowflakes,

That veiled the child of mine.


Now I see you in the night time,

As shadows dance and sway,

A shape, a thought, a memory,

Of a past when you were mine.


Seasons mark the age of time,

Like the babe who grew to man,

Nature’s great atonement,

For the sin that made you mine.


I’m currently working on adapting this poem and others into an historical novella, you can read a section here.


You wanted my body and you wanted my soul,

You wanted my armour to crumble and fall,

You wanted my need to depend on your own,

And you wanted to take me from all I had known,

You wanted my weakness and you wanted my fear,

You wanted my hunger every time you were near,

You wanted my yearning and my burning desire,

And you wanted my longing to be fuel for the pyre.


I wanted your love and I wanted your honour,

I wanted your nourishment to help me to flower,

I wanted your protection from all that I feared,

And I wanted the vows we had said be revered.

I wanted to surrender and I wanted to give in,

I wanted to relinquish all the pain held within,

I wanted to cry for all that we were,

And I wanted to forget and forgive you for her.


I wish that you wanted what I wanted too.

In my Dreams

In shadows of slumber and transient hues,

You are the sculptor and I am your muse,

Misty pink tones of a softened pastiche,

Banish the shame and let passions unleash.

Fingers so gentle, they mould a wet form,

I am the clay for your touch to transform,

My skin is the canvas that is yours to explore,

And my blood is the palette of fire you adore.

The silken washed edges that glisten and sheen,

Do dance in the moonlight and veil the unseen.

The phoenix that rises from the moulds of desire,

Is born out of passion and its transient lit fire.

Pray keep me in slumber and do not awake,

For you are the path of the road I can’t take.

You are the Romeo to my Juliet,

You are the one I cannot forget.

When I Was Young

I was yours and you were mine,

I wrote it down a thousand times,

You had fallen down from heaven,

I was six and you were seven.


When I was ten you kissed my cheek,

I blushed bright red, my legs felt weak.

You winked an eye then turned and ran,

And that was when I shaped my plan.


Thirteen came and fourteen too,

I hid my shadow from your view.

I was the whisper in your ear,

I was the touch that brushed past near.


At seventeen my plan remained,

I knew our love was pre-ordained.

You would be mine, it was a fact,

Perhaps they did not tell you that.


When I was twenty my plan had stalled,

I knew the reason, I saw who called.

I watched the days pass by so quick,

The flames of loss, a burning wick.


At twenty two you married June,

I cried so many tears for you.

My hopes and dreams all died that day,

Just scattered dust on a wedding bouquet.


(Photo from

I Thought I Was Your Only One

I thought I was your only one,

Your first, your last, your everyone.

The one who made your breathing still,

The warm embrace that fought your chill.

The one that made your eyes ignite,

From every whispered word I spoke.

The one who made your fire burn bright,

I fed your heat and inhaled the smoke.

The one with moistened full red lips,

That trailed from foot to finger tips.

The one you kissed in such a way,

That all was lost, amidst the play.

The one that made you drown in lust,

Open, bare, in you I trust.

You took my all and so much more.

Then broke apart within my core.

That one that took you from my bed,

Will she bear witness to what I said?

When I thought I was your only one,

Your first, your last, your everyone.