Monday, April 8, 2013

NaPoWriMo: Nikki Morgan

April is National Poetry Writing Month. In celebration of poets everywhere, and to encourage those who are just embarking on their literary journey, I will be posting poetry (not mine) each day for the month of April. Please take a look and enjoy this special art.
Nikki Morgan

I live in Walsall, West Midlands (UK) with my husband, two children and our mad Staffordshire bull terrier.  After leaving Birmingham University in 1998 with a First Class Degree in Ancient and Medieval History, I took a series of administration jobs that weren't really very fulfilling and, to be honest, I was terrible at.  I had my first child and decided to stay at home to look after him.  This is when my life as a writer truly began; I found love as a mother and rediscovered my love of writing and life.

Debut Novel

My debut novel, Blackthorn - A Tale of Fire and Fury, is a young adult novel set in a dystopian future where humans have been subjugated by their Faerie overlords.  It follows the story of Drake Blackthorn, the last Dragon Rider, and his desire to get revenge on the man who murdered his father.  It is available, for free, at smashwords:

A sample of Blackthorn can be red at Authonomy:
and my new book can also be sampled there:

I can be contacted at

The Flight of Ideas

A heron lands in the glass-like mirror of my mind.
The water shifts, fracturing the light,
Reflecting my empty eyes,
And those of fearful passersby.

The canvas is blank, 
I start to paint;
Trying to capture the moment past
When all was calm, clear and sedate.
But the heron, seizing his fish,
Rupturing the darkening sky.

A petrol-black beetle
Across the painted cornfield
And smudges the line
Between truth and lies.

I run it through with my knife.
It bleeds;
A river runs red,
But still life is all I see in my head.

The smell of oil paint deadens
Dead senses;
Acrid, pungent and oppressive.
The canvas screams under thick dark paint.
The swirling lines of earlier paintings,
Become trapped
Under layers
Of angular,
My mind’s exhausted, trying to tell,
What’s real?

But nothing is left,
Inside my head;
Not even tears.

1 comment:

  1. I rather liked the poem--very expressive, with a nice languid tone--very reminiscent of the feeling of the teller. I also checked out and liked your facebook page! Good luck, Nikki!