All the fuckin’ country
is tense about some dead duck football game
tonight at 8 pm (or so I’m told).
The sea it slinked away but turned again
and stealthily manoeuvres to reclaim
the mudflats populated by the clumsy
clumps of seals. They loiter, lolled
like slack balloons, like lard
collapsing down to chip fat on the hob.
But we, we sit up straight: our sofa, st...
Tuesday 10th August 2021 10:14 am
Your church bells ring out
Over the sea to St. Cuthbert's Isle
Proud, aloof, yet crumbling
Stands the priory
We sit amongst historic grandeur
Imagining what life was like
And pay homage to your saints
Of long ago
May the grave of St. Aiden
Forever remain on this island
And allow time to stand still
For generations to come
Thursday 4th January 2018 2:21 pm
This is an experimental poem, written to discover whether I can handle a Petrarchan or Italian Sonnet. The rhyme scheme is trickier than I expected! I enjoyed writing it, and I hope you enjoy it.
Light: A Sonnet
A beacon light would soothe the thoughtful soul,
and show the over-wrought their handsome fate,
quell fearful dread, stem terror-rivers' spate,
and illuminate, shun cha...
Wednesday 11th January 2017 3:49 pm