You got me when high
Which is to strike low
Thought I was rid of
Turned out Continue reading →

Apocalypse Now on Weston Promenade

13/04/2025 / N. P. Ryan

The child screaming in the block of public toilets
Echoes just like the children loaded into APCs
At the village where Willard meets Kilgore
The toilets much like the Americans care
Seeming to offer help from afar
But demanding their twenty pence worth
In smaller signage once the needy are there Continue reading →

Orange Abyss of Death

16/03/2025 / N. P. Ryan

Things that annoy me make me write poetry; this week I was particularly vexed by the quality of an orange: Continue reading →

not perfect like me

09/03/2025 / N. P. Ryan

why would they do that?
I have no idea
absolutely none
and I‘d prefer leave it there
catching that glare
a reason there must have been
not every love or every life
can turn out to be Continue reading →

Drop the Mic

02/03/202502/03/2025 / N. P. Ryan

What kind of mic do you have?
He asked when his name was called
As he lifted from the floor
A large metal briefcase
That he placed on the bar
Opened with a double click
As each of the latches got released
Lifting the lid an array Continue reading →

delighted

16/02/2025 / N. P. Ryan

what does the word
‘delighted’ mean to you
that feeling of being
anything but blue
full of happiness, smiles and bliss
the sort of joy sealed with a kiss
aunties responding to the news
of new nieces and nephews Continue reading →