
alt text: a picture of Earth taken from space, the lower part of the planet eclipsed in darkness.
A verse about us.
With thanks to NASA for use of the header image. Continue reading
alt text: a picture of Earth taken from space, the lower part of the planet eclipsed in darkness.
A verse about us.
With thanks to NASA for use of the header image. Continue reading
Written when the snow was but a forecast on the TV . . . Continue reading
An absurdity of words.
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If one must insist on clichés, then at least have the common decency to be unique about it!
With thanks to NASA for use of the header image. Continue reading
I have a sensitive sense of smell apparently; perhaps alone enough to cement a hatred for overbearing odours. But with aftershaves and perfumes there’s the added aspect of what, especially when finding oneself in a room full of people wearing either abundantly, is implied by their garish and obnoxious presence. Continue reading
Poetry to ‘celebrate’ all the lovely profits being made by energy companies in the midst of the war in Ukraine and cost of living crisis. What profit is there in the misery of others? Apparently plenty. It speaks the greatest volumes known to humanity about what this idea capitalism really is. Continue reading
Poetry without comment beyond thanks to Joni Tuohimaa for use of the header image. Continue reading
Sometimes it can he hard to write an introduction when the intention of the words below is that they speak for themselves.
Suffice to say that the intention here is to start the reader at a point seemingly alien and somewhat unsettling, before then arriving them in a few short lines somewhere completely relatable.
And even that feels like saying too much!
Two lovers part on bad terms with an agreement to meet in a year to see if they have a future. Both travel to the meeting on the London Underground, but one is delayed without any way of letting the other know.
Failing to arrive in time could be plenty enough to seal their fate. Do they make it and what caused the rift to begin is told in a sequence of poems from the two perspectives.
The poems originally formed the main body of a review for Ian Arkley’s album ‘two’, the music inspiring a poetic narration rooted in my experience of using the Underground before leaving London at the end of the last century; the tracks remain available in this post, also providing the name for each verse. Continue reading
Thoughts in consideration of the unusual ways the feeling of being isolated can make itself felt.
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