Mine and His | Gail Henderson

My drawer

A notebook

Six foiled throat lozenges

Handbag sized sanitiser a modern day addition

Norwegian formula hand cream, can be used anywhere

Notification of a Gallery Sale – starting soon!

A two sided mirror, one side scrutinising drop and decline

Vouchers  (note to self – check dates)

Ziploc freezer bag containing cold hard cash

Nail varnish leaflet, a complete wardrobe of shades

Homemade back scratcher and letter opener

Very small, very useful, green, pointed scissors

A rainbow nest of pens, pencils and highlighters

.

His drawer

A squad of pens, newly refilled

Flanked by two sharpened pencils

All at attention

Ready for the write 


Gail Henderson arrived in Angus, Scotland from Oxford in 2006. After writing poetry for many years, three years ago she joined a creative writing class and during the lockdown of 2021 discovered a weekly online writing group, The Procrastinators, which has helped her explore different genres and given her the opportunity of sharing her work.

The Padlock on the Bridge | Gail Henderson

It was meant to represent our togetherness

Till death do us part and foreverness

Our joined there in verse, for better or worse

Let no man put asunder, not everness.

.

But our love was not locked so permanently

You found someone else and you gave them the key

All the vows that we made you were willing to trade

Along with the love you once had for me.


Gail Henderson arrived in Angus, Scotland from Oxford in 2006. After writing poetry for many years, three years ago she joined a creative writing class and during the lockdown of 2021 discovered a weekly online writing group, The Procrastinators, which has helped her explore different genres and given her the opportunity of sharing her work.

The Ventriloquist | Gail Henderson

The performance begins in the dressing room

Pan-stick and touches of rouge here and there

Purposefully round the edges of his large protruding ears

Draws their eyes away from his small, tight lipped mouth

He spray sets his hair, collects me from a chair

My limbs hang loose and lifeless

Head turned awkwardly to one side resting on my shoulder

Then, there it is. His hand thrust inside me

Fingers separate, twist and penetrate, finding familiar holes.

Finally we are joined. Reluctant Bride, contented Groom.


Gail Henderson arrived in Angus, Scotland from Oxford in 2006. After writing poetry for many years, three years ago she joined a creative writing class and during the lockdown of 2021 discovered a weekly online writing group, The Procrastinators, which has helped her explore different genres and given her the opportunity of sharing her work.

The Dodo | Gail Henderson

Have you ever seen a Dodo?  Nor me

A bird, so could be looking in the wrong place – a tree

It’s big, I hear it’s over three feet tall when found

Will be both walking and nesting on the ground

It’s heavy too, you’ll never see it fly

Has yellow feet so sure to notice it pass by

It’s only habitation is an Island called Mauritius

Apparently extinct because it tastes so delicious!


Gail Henderson arrived in Angus, from Oxford in 2006. From Doncaster, South Yorkshire originally she still considers herself a Yorkshire Lass. After writing poetry for many years, often lighthearted with a touch of humour, three years ago she joined a creative writing class and now writes short stories as well as poetry of a more serious nature. During lockdown of 2021 she discovered an online writing group, The Procrastinators, the group has helped her explore different genres and given her the opportunity of sharing her work. 

Ode to a Golden Galleon | Gail Henderson

Oh no! When did this happen?

I’ve cared for you so many years, I’ve loved you even more.

One minute, all crystal and sunlight

wrapped safely in paper, not any old paper, soft, white tissue

that cradled you’re delicate masts and pennants,

cushioned your fragile, lace like bow, stern and deck.

.

Now you are a wreck.

Small, glass galleon, dear delicate thing, unrecognisable and yet

crystal and sunlight bring sparkle to your fragments of hull, sail and prow.

How can I love and admire you now? 


Gail Henderson arrived in Angus, from Oxford in 2006. From Doncaster, South Yorkshire originally she still considers herself a Yorkshire Lass. After writing poetry for many years, often lighthearted with a touch of humour, three years ago she joined a creative writing class and now writes short stories as well as poetry of a more serious nature. During lockdown of 2021 she discovered an online writing group, The Procrastinators, the group has helped her explore different genres and given her the opportunity of sharing her work. 

The State of Me | Gail Henderson

Look at me, look at the state of me.

Too long I’ve left the nearly new, kitten heeled shoes, boxed out of sight.

The sleeveless, summer shift, label attached says too tight.

Confined, coloured Contact lenses out of date, out of favour.

Lemon and ginger green tea unsupped, left for someone else to savour.

Gym membership paid, card mislaid, my abs forgotten how to crunch.

Bike languishing with sooty cobwebs, Spiders putting all their legs to good use.

Redundant eye shadow, lipstick and mascara keep each other company in a different, dark drawer.

Jewelry, forgotten, unappreciated for months waiting for admiring glances when worn on safer days.

Soft, silk scarves stay folded away, replaced by masks that filter, stifle, suffocate.

Don’t look at me. Please, don’t look at me.


Gail Henderson arrived in Angus, from Oxford in 2006. From Doncaster, South Yorkshire originally she still considers herself a Yorkshire Lass. After writing poetry for many years, often lighthearted with a touch of humour, three years ago she joined a creative writing class and now writes short stories as well as poetry of a more serious nature. During lockdown of 2021 she discovered an online writing group, The Procrastinators, the group has helped her explore different genres and given her the opportunity of sharing her work.