http://www.amazon.co.uk/Now-Geraldine-Ward/dp/1489508473/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1395437815&sr=1-1&keywords=geraldine+ward+now I hope this will be the first in a series of “Now” collections. All profits to NSPCC.
Hi, Here are some links to my books on Amazon, starting with the first, children’s stories collection, “Squiggles” containing some of my best writing I feel. All proceeds go to NSPCC so please purchase and spread the word. Many thanks to you all for your support and a few more book links to follow. http://www.amazon.co.uk/Squiggles-Geraldine-Ward/dp/1494367262/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1395437274&sr=1-1&keywords=geraldine+ward
Medallion sunshine, “Mummy,” cries a child in the wind, the little girl’s voice lost in time as bees buzz and birds chatter through the trees, whirring of aeroplanes above Our cat, Tigger meows for attention, the little girl yells road and train buzz, ripple, gentle breeze floating like a timeless sea washed up on the … Continue reading
So I wrote about the sunshine the shifting climate, changing times. Bubbling to the surface, the aeroplane flies. Sirens beckon, traffic rumbles on. Nature sings some fleeting song. While peace fills the air and birds twitter, ever so now and then the washing line flickers, lulled by the gentle breeze. In Orpington life is quiet. … Continue reading
Cruel shepherdess, strange mistress of time. Fortune had favoured the cleverest of lies. Supremely redeemed, the star-maker’s head-dress, reached the sky like an African Queen of the Nile, she holds white man’s burden, her children, the stars captivated, protecting them all. Her dark sheet of night cloaked in tears as her mask was unveiled – … Continue reading
The notebook on a scandal re-surfaced in a dream. Smelling of roses, on a whim or moonbeam. The dreamers met and as the dawn set a new day approached, warm and angelic her face was caressed. In the land of the living all were blessed and beautiful, a glorious affair made in heaven, he touched … Continue reading
“Meet me by the loch,” she said, at Camden Town, where artists ten a penny flock gypsy vagabonds in houseboats, hearts pure, musicians play and serenade a choir of unsuspecting hells angels in biker apparel. “Meet me by the loch,” she said, yet I did not know then, underneath the canal swam memories cool as the … Continue reading