Welcome to my Poetry blog. Please feel free to comment on what you read here. Personal responses and literary criticism are welcome but offensive, inappropriate or irrelevant comments may be edited or deleted.
If you would like to publish your own poetry here please email 1-3 poems (total word limit 500 words) to email@example.com If you wish to include a link to your own website I will post it with your poetry.
Snatching fragments of poetry
from my unpoetic life.
Reading the story my soul is writing
and not understanding a word.
Caught between the book and the road,
between the art and the lie;
caught like a Monk returning from
a night out on the town.
The freedom we all thought to lose,
is now a burden encumbered by choice
and the realisation that we are going
nowhere but here.
I DON’T BELIEVE IN LOVE
I don’t believe in love or luck any more
than I believe in lightning.
I once thought it was impossible for
a person to be struck by a bolt of electricity from the sky.
Now I am convinced,
that despite the odds it does happen.
It is not a matter of belief, or faith.
It is a scientific fact.
THE COMFORT OF A PARADIGM
A set of two stars
is a point of balance
in a universe ungoverned
Where infinity explodes
in my mind, a constellation
while I scare myself
with scientific understanding.
Far from being carefully designed and calibrated for humankind, the cosmos looks precisely the sort of place that one would expect had it emerged unplanned from the void.
the stars may have been an accident,
scattered as they are on dark velvet
but there is purpose in my knowing
how to read them, how to marvel
at the profundity of their existence
and how we stand so still while the
the earth moves and love dies and
hope springs and the thousand things
that flesh is heir to, make us wonder
why we are alive and with what reason
The cat's mouth bulges.
sprouts like whiskers in front.
The dread of approaching,
thinking you know what it is,
watching her as she eyes an escape,
knowing it may be too late
A soft, deceptive call
and she hesitates.
You pounce, trying to be gentle,
thinking of next time.
and gently prise open her jaws.
A tiny green bird
flies like a dart
to the nearest tree.
You are still
there, mingled with the atoms
of the warm grass,
the fluting shrikes and
The vapour of a fog
settles on me like
Even music arms me
with its cadenced codes
and significant nuances.
Then there is rain
on the mountains,
and the intoxication of
lying at the bottom of the pond.
The other half, still
in the pale sky.
or misfortune’s savage beak.
with timid wings
flying beneath the radar
of disaster’s deadly eyes.
to larger predators
feeding on carcasses
no bigger than its own.