Geek street feel the beat Of fingers tapping not the feet Geek street Where programmers meet Turn out coding neat Even when some still use l33t spk That algorithm needs a tweak Seek the answers on Geek Street Better than star fleet Is completing the feet of debugging by the pants of your seat The […]
Fleshy white and pink blooms cupped together In a straggely tree that an old woman tends Blooms that do not keep for drying or pressing Nor steep for perfume Large thick blooms, clumsy some would say The ache to preserve the wonder burns A fleeting beauty like the wrinkled hands that tend it
The edge of the map is found But it is nothing Just a page within an atlas And that atlas in one of many tomes Sitting upon the shelves Of but one room in a library Adventures and trails await The explorers who think they know it all
Thinking thoughts the writer sits Pen poised But the words do not escape into ink Wedged as they are within Craniums dark gapping grasp Maybe a pint would help or chips or a walk Another day gone The Muse – a let down once more
This ribbon of sound Was unbound Splitting it was found Twisted folded around To make a mound Knew which pound… of flesh was bound To sink down To form the word, a sound The ribbon of sound Was found A narrative of life Bound in the unbound This Ribbon of sound.
New and pinkly lean they stand Wood like sentinels, puncturing jaded sky A mockery of the trunk, craggy bark Green coated and split within Grass bright studded with daffodils Covering a floor, so out of place Against a back drop of snow drenched hills
The dark radiant, Night is sick, Within possibilities, Trembles with fear, Of the undefined.
Last year I had a great time at the first Poetry Slam to be held in Cirencester. It was organised by the fab Marcus Moore and Sara-Jane Arbury and was lots of fun. Of course I did not score very high but that is not why I go to them – this was my third […]
Breathing life… breathing fire – I want to sleep upon this pyre, In this time and in this place – I love the whole of the human race
A cascade of moments that may be a life, a drain, a drain of resource pain and thought and me strung up upon myself