Here you may view poems I have created in various form – written, spoken, GIF, and visual poetry art films. Whilst my work is available to collect as NFT’s it is free for all to enjoy in passing; but I have provided links to the relevant gallery marketplace for all available works where applicable.
My NFT’s are affordable to acquire, and by doing so you enable me to continue to create, and spread a little light in dark times.
Your support is always much appreciated. Thank-you, Linda.



stolen joy lies silent constraint

hefty-clank-chained closet –

& as feisty firefly battle weary meh moths

long suffering moon

weeps chemtrail clouds across prussian sky/

toxic mourning

until morning.


there is a house next door.

where cobwebs thrive. spirit no longer visits. possessions moulder amongst debris – collapsed roof sometimes blue sky. in dirty drawers’ spiders lurk amongst perished elastic bands. bugs scratch under iron bedstead. damp dances decay. simply a matter of time. end of day.


jewelled vermilion

embers glow fainter –

wild grimace of wasted years/

a life of lived yesterdays –

faux forever

trophy tomorrows

snatched by lacklustre lackeys

of the godless beast.



Little Linda : FOUR

“They think me odd.” She said.

“But Girl you know that this is because you are not of their world.”

“How do I live & find happy here?” She asked.

“Simple.” He replied. “You look within.”

Available to collect HERE.



There are days –

of lightness – as if seedhead blossoms

take flight on linen-fresh wind rush-d-days

& I am ok

& the world is ok too :

I do not mourn your loss nor dwell on youthful lithe

carefree laughter / joy – vodka jelly high jinx / pranks

hustle of Covent Garden tube

strobe lights of Ministry of Sound.

I do not miss my best friend

the others who scattered like fragile leaves

when frosts threatened –

when single parenthood

weighed heavy upon slim-slumped-shoulders

& I sat alone with Cloudy Bay for company.

There are days when I am ok

even though I mourn the passing of mum

the treachery of family undone despite the shadow of her ashes

family / friends /youth flown

characters blown

to a million / trillion splintered smithereens.

All that was is gone

except in mind

and I reflect scorn at the unfamiliar reflection of unfamiliar body

world-worn / weary.

But today –

I am ok as I watch Rome burn,

goodly-goofy-citizens-consuming microwave-salt-d-popcorn


bloody clowns!

/ red-gorgeous-poppies

nod sagely in the field nearby

lone weeping willow weeps

premature rusted leaves no longer green

aberration of nature.