Tag Archives: Poetry

Thinks

No poetic allusions today, my mind is troublingly prosaic. I’ve been troubled by my dwindling imagination for some time but felt as though I had an insight into why and wherefore just as I was dropping off to sleep last … Continue reading

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Eight-Size Foward

To sleep beneath contrarian skies, blind to the celestial ride for just a little while. It was not meant to enlighten but the sun broke through and the civil war of grey on blue is over. For now. One stumble-scuffed … Continue reading

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Dream Variations

Sleep engulfs me, a cloak of shroudy dumb-ass numbness topped off with a suggestion of sinusitis increasing the sense that wakefulness is somewhat unappetising. This is a radio day, a coffee going cold on the bedside cabinet day, a never … Continue reading

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Move Him Into The Sun

The morning is crisp like an unbitten apple, waxy sunshine not quite reaching down to the bones. Beneath my feet the artificially aged floorboards of a wannabe hipster cafe which is nonetheless occupied by non-hipster middle-aged spreads and mumsy mums … Continue reading

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This Efficacious Spirit

Ever get the feeling that a big wave of change is coming your way but you haven’t got a clue what the change will be or where it will lead? I don’t mean because of world events, that happens to … Continue reading

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