New book- Mortal by Veronica Aldous

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I was thinking of visiting you
By now you will be mystified by leaves
Haunted by squirrels and small slow maggots
Fingering and boring into the sainted bark.
I feel you in the sunset when the shadows
Skitter over my hands and upturned face.
In the night I hear your low thrumming breath
The way of sleeping which is simply rusting
Composting dreams into mole hills.
Bracken sprays its spores across the humus
The deer rise astonished
Their bright muzzles wet with nuzzling
The mush of viridian and sap green grass.
I truly think the forest took you.
I swallow the juice-truth and it neither comforts
Nor disturbs; as in a deep wisdom
Or a mournful song, or the peet-peet
Of the little owls, or the spread of light
From a lit orb; I could go on
Weeping into the chasms of my heart
Stumbling along word paths
Searching in all the godly places-
The stupid lost loving little life of a beetle.


Veronica Aldous all rights reserved 2018.
Picture shows detail of a winter scene by the artists and poet

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The Little Ones


We didn’t tread this way
Because we chose it, rather
It was the way the wind blew down
The ginnel into the heathland
Bending the soft cocksfoot and fescue
To a whitish silver footpath
That we wound down
Pushed by forgotten fists
And slaphard shoves

This crooked stump of half rotten wood
The squat of fungi and shy beetles
Did you think we do not want a fireplace
And two painted smugfaced greyhounds?

We do have sharp stingers
And the antidote, kind dockleaf
A couple of rusted knives and a dug up pin.

Yes, it is the whyplace and the halfpath
And we do like crooked things now
So don’t come when we are skiving rabbits
About half past foggy in November.


Veronica Aldous all rights reserved 2018

Photograph of handmade fibula by Veronica

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Very Important Notes



Very Important Notes

Summer brittled her, cracking her ribs
As balsam disgorged its black seeds
Into the western tributary
She lay on her back beneath bracken
Serpentine in its ways and habits

‘The sun is also a star, the moon a mere mimic
I wish now, I had pressed my hand into the pargeting
Before the vandals came and smashed the heads
Off cherubs and nymphs; there are spirals
In my brain which make me unique but useless –

But anyway, it is some kind of comfort.’


Veronica Aldous  all rights reserved 2017

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Banned words

Banned words

They shoved the words deep in holes
dug pits and tipped them in
covering their cries
with leaves and stones
then walked away, whistling.

Sun came, rain engorging the fat earth
sickening to explain itself

The forests grew high
choking the village
women and men with ivy crowns
came walking stiff and high
scalding the air with their utterances.


Veronica Aldous  2017 all rights reserved

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trees monotype.jpg

It pierces the delirious ends of things
A vagrant nosing in a bin bag
The sun shaving the edges of the trees
Behind him, always behind –
So their angelic spines stand as liturgy

A rosary falls as the sparrows chip at the crumbs.


Veronica Aldous all rights reserved 2017

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New book out; an anthology Indra’s Net

Indra’s Net

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Alma’s Tricky Biscuits.


Lie down in your backyard; let Alma comfort you
With sore swigs of apple-nettle juice
The bandy-legged crows pluck at the rusting
which was once  a refrigerator
I can smell rat-Saturday blowing up the high street
The ineffable litter of hoodwinking dealers
The morning window scrapers, the sweet angelic
blessed by a vagrant tiny tributary
and Ophelia’s weed-

I found some words on a corner-torn Rizla packet

This man is loitering
I don’t know if he has intent

It gave me internal rickets.


Veronica Aldous all rights reserved 2017

Photograph Veronica Aldous

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