March 2021 Collage Poem: Velvet Saboteurs
Change rooms, change behaviour, change times.
Change partners, change parents, change poetic style.
The diary under my bed reveals truth but I still ebb away before your eyes
From the shadows she whispered,
Power proliferates, changing buses, changing lives,
Running away from somebody else’s husband
Profiteroles? I love profiteroles said Chaucer but I can't spell it.
Asking myself wha...
Tuesday 9th March 2021 1:07 pm
March Lockdown Collage Poem
Dreading the task of a thousand spots
Lost worlds now more than just regrets or soiled paths not taken
Walking through life with coke, crack, and endless possibilities.
In the amber of panic a book of hauntology is born
The biggest April fools prank ever
Miniature portraits of a poetic diaspora under curfew still deliver haunting lines
Gaining a better view at the edge of the world
Ta...
Friday 3rd April 2020 1:48 pm
March 2020 Collage Poem: There’s a Rumour Going Round that Street
Righteous and correct, the clown wilts
Rumour has it I saw someone in costume
From a magazine advertising hard goods.
It’s left my heads in bolts and screwed up.
Unlock my imagination.
No you can’t have a pancake: it’s Saturday!
Run your fingers through the rubble
At the altar of vengeance
Rumour has it, God is forgotten and pancakes need Nutella.
...Tuesday 10th March 2020 11:33 am
March 2019 Collage Poem - 'In the Wardrobe'
Silence, echoes, look at the colours
And Distant Distractions
Minks and stoles all of this reminds me of you
Silver hunter's knife
Overseer left mute
Soiled aliens desperate in Heaton Moor
Park stumble on a Mel
Brooks look-a-like
Inside the man bag, inside the wardrobe
Inside the mind, a voice, a naked voice
Lost in the wardrobe, he looked for
Dead bodie...
Monday 11th March 2019 10:16 pm
Winter Town
This is my vision of a certain cast of English village (not so much in springtime).
Winter Town
March winds stir listless eddies,
fluke in tired gusts over thin pools,
flare through fields of stubble
then flag, exhausted, sour and wheezing
from the blowing day;
coughing, rubbing arthritic fingers,
cold as a church bell sounds the hours.
Spring will be late this...
Saturday 23rd December 2017 3:13 am
March
Of being mired in mud;
In need of respite
In need of hope
In the furthest corner of my right eye
I see something gleaming;
A glimpse of something bold
With a whisper of promise
And a whiff of sweat and steel
Bringing a fresh strong arm
A sharper blade
A stronger shield
Monday 29th February 2016 7:13 pm
Exile - March Collage Poem
Three two one and the bullets are all gone.
Sunday 15th March 2015 10:32 am
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