I lean down to feed more sticks into the fire, keeping the heat high as the rich aromas of rabbit stew with wild onions, mushrooms and foraged greens fill our small cabin. Mouth watering. As the wind whistles under the eaves, I walk to the open doorway looking for him.

It’s a precious time with everyone gone momentarily, on business, hunting, visiting with neighbours, so, it’s just Jamie and me.

And there he is; the late afternoon sun casts a red gold glow on the sycamore trees, the leaves shifting and shimmering with the small breeze and, as I stand watching him, he turns towards me, his body outlined in gold as the sun sinks behind him, as the air cools, as he stretches and shifts the long muscled lines of his body.

I’m already wet with wanting……wanting him.

He sees it in my eyes, my smile, and leaving the plank of timber he’s been sawing, he carries tools back to the verandah’s sheltered shelves, puts them tidily away as I move towards him.

I can smell his sweat, the sharp scent of our earlier sex……

He gathers me in against him as I reach up to kiss his mouth, take his lower lip between my teeth, then, murmuring against his neck, “Come, food is ready, you must be starving.”
He laughs softly, “Aye, I am, but not for food, not just now, anyway “, and reaching down, he lifts my skirts, one big hand cupped around my waist, the other finds it’s way to the cleft between my legs.”

I cleave to him as he makes that small, soft moan deep in his throat. “Christ, ye’re already so wet”, and pulling me against him, he kisses me deeply, as I feel the laughter rising up in him, feel him hard against me.

“Eat later”, he says, and taking me by the hand, pulls me towards our fur covered bed. I can feel the heat of him.

My phone alarm rings, the harsh jolt of reality breaking through this beautiful dream, and yet, I can still hear the echo of his voice,
smell the strong male smell of him.
My face is wet with tears.
Was it really ONLY a dream???


Desire…..part 2

In my dreams
He comes to me
Wide mouth tilting
At the corners
Of his lips
I am ready
I whisper
He comes then
To me
Are you mine???

Eyes lit
From within
He smiles
He is ready
I can see
And softly steps
Towards me
In my dreams
No one else
But he

Skin on skin
He reaches then
Touches me
Brings me home
In my dreams
There’s only

This one
This love
This fire
This light
My man
My love
My richest sin
My kin
In my dreams

MA ©️ Spring 2016

Time flies

Time Flies, Somewhere Somebody Dies…..

Bracing myself
For the terrifying ravages
Of daily life
The deep dissatisfaction
Of food shopping
Account paying
Who will
If I don’t
Yet, where is there time
To dream
Live life fully
The bed needs fresh clean linen
Weeks ago
Days of dishes
Piled neatly in the sink
No time for Art
For writing the words
Cluttering my mind
Like a swarm of bees
As I think…..

Soft grey clouds
Of shed hair
From cats and dog
Drift about the floor
While I dream of
Culloden moor
Jamie and Claire
How will they fare
And Iris’s want gathering
To plant before
Night falls
My heart calls out
In desolation
For maybe rather
A wild nesting place
Than this domestic socalled grace……

Nick Cave mourns in
Deep soft tones
His heart ‘s love’s
Long Black Hair
And I care
For all and every living soul
While dwelling in
My prison hole
Of hard won security….

Why me
Who’d live like
Beloved Ravens on the wing
Harsh voice broken
As I forget to sing
For daily duty calls
I sip a fiery taste
Of single Malt
Butt out my cherished
And get up
Go out the door
Armed with Iggy Pop
And Lust for life
To fortify me
Against mediocrity
And so
Food shopping
Accounts paying
Into the car
I go

MargaretArlen , Winter 2016

Breaking Taboos…ln the cabin by the lake.

There was, after all, nothing to fear. Her body remembers, instinctively.

And coming apart, suddenly shy again, but he grabs her quickly by the hand, turns her towards him, smiling….brushing dirt, twigs, dried leaves from each other’s clothes, hair, she feels safe once more. Trusting him.

He opens the door, leans down smiling, removes  the last dead leaves still caught in her hair, beckons her, inviting.

Inside, sparsely furnished with a single bed, a cupboard, a wood fire stove, small table, some wooden chairs, two windows letting light stream onto the wooden floor, the patterned rug, and through the door, late afternoon sun shimmers on the still surface of the lake.

He brings her water from the outside tank, rummages around in the cupboard, finds a loaf of heavy bread, cheese, chutney, apples and a bottle of wine. She sits watching his swift, graceful movements, his hair come loose, falling forward momentarily hiding his face, his beautiful bones. She sketches him with her eyes, tracing the fine lines , and catching her watching him, he laughs suddenly….”I love feeling you watching me”,  hands her a glass of dark red wine, leans in, kisses her, and floods her mouth with the first taste of it, mingled with him. Neither of them are really hungry, and as dusk descends she wants to go out to the water.  So very peaceful here, soft sounds of birds twittering to each other as they settle for the night, a flight of ducks skimming across the surface , then quiet descends. They don’t talk, perhaps there will be time for that later, for now, the peaceful bliss of this bright new thing seems to fill them both…a quiet ease.  And all through the night, on the small single bed, they couple and join, again and again….her hunger excites him. And in between, exploring each other, wordless touching, fingers drifting over bone, hair, warm flesh and soft, full lips,  she feels herself drowning, lets every last thought leave her mind, leave fear behind, holding him, holding him.

Excerpt from Breaking Taboos, an Erotic Fantasy


UNDRESSED, unshowered, unlikely…..
It’s mid afternoon
Cramped hands
Anxiety ignored as I continue to compile my Poetry
Into Book form
Writing my life’s work down upon the page….
Feeling stressed but exultant….
I will still have gut eating debt
My house will forever need cleaning
But, but….
What if I ignored the need….
It would be as if I never

August 2017



Not a feeling of nausea
But a longing so deep
It beats in your blood
Floods your guts
Bleeds through vein
And bone
Right to the hidden marrow
It won’t let go
And in your shell like ear
Or mind’s eye
The darkening thundrous sky
Curves over a stormy sea
Gulls wheel, and scream and cry
For teeming fish below
Not for me
Who, washed up
By the high tide
Land locked
Screams silently
As the moon rides
The ebb and flow
Within…..and I go
In endless dreams
Down to the water’s side
To swim

MA Winter 2015



She loves the afterglow….that lull, when two bodies cease the great struggle towards the “Little Death”, when the pulse quietens. Loves to explore the unfamiliar territory of his face….to go beyond his eyes, touch his still wet lips with delicate fingertips…..trace the strong planes of cheek bones, the thick dark stubbled hair around his mouth and chin, finding the lovely unknown terrain, of him…..and then returning to the pull of his gaze, his strong beautiful face, and finally at rest….looking back at him, into him. Those clear blue eyes, the soul of him.

Excerpt from Breaking Taboos

PROLOGUE……The old burial Ground

They moan and cry out, torn from their final resting place in the old burial ground, dug up from the dark earth with callous disregard for the lives they once lived, loaded onto carts by the moon’s dark, as the tired old horses hoofbeats ring out on cobbled stones…..taken from all they once knew as home…..muted by death, none can hear their troubled cries…..and way out across the waters of the Bay, the Plovers shrill pipings echo the lone piercing wails of the old woman as her grieving voice floats out across the waves. She feels the lift and shifting of the bodies deep within, hears her long dead lover, his soul self calling. “Come find me, come my love, my heart, come find my bones”


As light begins to fade

She gathers up her tools, regretfully

Birds softly twitter to each other

In the far off trees

The evening dim is falling

She hears vixens calling

To their cubs nearby

A wild, lonely, piercing cry

And feels the urgent pull inside herself

For him

Apron stuffed with fragrant herbs

Aromatics, medicinal, perfumed

Hands full, back tired from bending

She stands up, easing stiffness


Suddenly needing comfort

The warmth of him


The long days work is done

There’ll be more tomorrow

His body aches from chopping wood

He still feels the axe blade’s rhythmic swing

All the way from thigh muscles

Hips, shoulders

Through to his hands

Clenching and unclenching them

The song of steel on wood

Still ringing in his ears

So that he doesn’t hear her coming

Until she stands before him

Lays down her basket

Moves quietly behind him

Lays hands upon his shoulders

Strong fingers work their way

Deep into hard flesh

She feels him yield

Let all tiredness fall from him

Pain and aching bones

Cramped muscles

Easing, loosening

Letting go


And now as darkness closes round them

The smell of her surrounds him

Fresh, sharp, pungent, clean

The gatherings of her calling

White Lady, She

Yet now her call is silent

As she leans in towards him

As she breathes pinesap, sweat and whisky

The deep male smell of him

Irresistible, intoxicating

He gathers her to him then

Takes her small hand in his

All tiredness gone from both of them

Revived, there is nothing now but hunger

Desire, one for the other


One flesh

Beloved husband

Cherished wife

Like the auld story of the Greylag Geese

Mated for life.