Absence and Longing


The wind blew the dust of the orchids
Till they fell in tiny rain
Pocketed by the silvered banks
In vegetal greensleep

Ghost, Lady’s Slipper, Pyramidal
Helleborine, Creeping Lady’s-Tresses
Hear lost songs and murmurings
Their seed mouths pursed

For ten years, small fingers tap
The diurnal coils, feathery roots
Two tiny leaves, then four
What falls and rises in that time?

Waxen palest starlight, cold moons
Summon the princesses
Their slippers are violet, pink
dappled, toad striped satin

Dancers, if you part the grass
Stare deep into their eyes
A hidden lover’s shivering fancy
Such things pass and are purblind.


Veronica Aldous all rights reserved 2019







On the Male Appropriation of Female Beauty

Is not flowers, but a suffocation
Of possibility, a simulacrum
Of the inner entity
Her eyes are luminous
Burning her books.

She stayed still for the image
Thinking it art or hypnotism
Inside her brain made
Novel synapses and spirals
Intricate new colours

Her breast lilies were quite violent
So he stumbled into her
A drunk demanding it, what, it, what?
Her starshell burned the black
Radiant, shortly before his paralysis.

I own myself
He made her say.

Veronica Aldous all rights reserved 2020

Painting Myself a New, Face by Veronica Aldous all rights reserved 2020


November plucks
At the beggar’s torn shawl
Blue beneath the folds

Veronica Aldous all right reserved 2020

Indigo. by Veronica Aldous 2020




If I were a tree
Ungovernable, with roots
Extending into the mouth of fire
I would crack open
A swarm of bees enter my heart
I would bow only to the empyrean wind
The white rain, the blue rain, the green waters

You would not notice me there in the forest
Amongst the others, I am not singular
To the eye, yet I scour the sky
With my dizzying bifurcation

I am an old elephantine beast
A scarred warrior in the darkness
As Orion blinks above me
And a thousand thousand diamonds
Fall straight into my yaw.

Veronica Aldous All rights reserved 2020

Textile stitched over leaf prints- Veronica Aldous


Veronica Aldous Instagram Art

lady alchemist


In my weedhood, I scampered up the sidings
Lockdown meant the people stared at me
Naked as a shorn lamb in the undergrowth

They baptised me with urine and sometimes beer
Staggering up the road with wailing lovesongs

Beautiful as an astonished baby, I emerged
Brazen in the cold sun, my clockwork heart
An orison to repetition
I am nothing but expectation
My ovules full of fruiting bodies, seed
Is my apotheosis, my ecstasy
Let bees crawl upon my breasts
My upturned hooped skirts
Whilst you stare transfixed
At my delicious flowers, my green heartleaves
Expose my  inner labyrinths with one finger,
I am already dying

I pray my babies are birthed
In deepest richesse of stinking  manure.


All Rights Reserved Veronica Aldous 2020

Some People Can’t Look at Anything

They set the little vixen on the cold earth
And wished her dead, as vermin sediment
Sinking beneath the clean hard stare
Next day she was still there
Marvelling at her own lack of breath

Stepping away from the glittering fact
The fat white woman
Slipped in yesterday’s excrement
And swore shitshitshit

As if it were a mantra
And death commonplace

Veronica Aldous 2020 all rights reserved


As a new hatched thing, a thing-thing
Unknowing as half a cabbage
To munch through
This complexity, immensity
This universe, and then the scalding
Or lies, to put another way
Of the people saving their job-jobs
Their families, their money
The world dams up
There is a polar bear somewhere
On a melting mudflat
Chewing on the bloody flesh
Of survival.

Harry Lime

I’m shutting up shop

Darkness is a weasel

Skittering up the gimmels

The bell is from Lucerne

Painted with stingingly blue gentians

But none of this matters

In black and white

I have a face I wear at work

Now it sags into espionage

Becomes occluded

A scratched old record

Brings out the zithers

As the leader flicks blindingly

In the reel and the gate illuminates

The blistering celluloid afterglow.


Painting by Veronica Aldous. Mind like the Sky. Mixed media on board.

All content ©Veronica Aldous 2019 all rights reserved



fruiting bodies.jpgTruths

For their tender points
Rooting fingers
Pleated leaves set in threes
Minutiae of poking hairs
Deep red throats
Frosted resins
Eat me no more
I may wither

Do you miss me?
Is a conundrum
Compulsive documentation
30 summers
Tucked high on a shelf

Strawberries will flourish without me
Of course, this is unbearable
But will be borne.

 Painting is ‘Fruiting Bodies’ by Veronica Aldous

All Rights Reserved Veronica Aldous 2019

Christ and Willy Wonka


Christ and Willy Wonka

Just when I was about to start a new life

Saltwater burned the stars
A little Judas jumped up
Sun smashed prams glittered in the canal
I want to believe in goodness
Abstract as roast partridge  flavour crisps
I want to believe in something
Even if it is stem cell repatriation.

Some days I paint only roses
Watching the colour fan out
A Chinese ballet of insects.

I know people come and go
I watched several die
My brain skidding on the endless
Disparity of my brain skidding
On dying and the actual death.

I read fortune cookies and Tarot
To determine the outcome
Of the boiling din of sub-Krystallnacht

My dear hoary ghost whispers
No one gets the gold ticket
It’s a knockout scam.


Veronica Aldous All rights reserved 2019

Adorned by butterflies…

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Adorned by butterflies, she walked the cold gardens
Summer came and passed
No trace, no trace, no trace
A memory flew, blue butterflies
Cold gardens, you.

Veronica Aldous all rights reserved 2019

I have published 4 books of my work. They are available on Amazon. Moon Cinema, Mortal, Maja, Dollish.