Poetry Blogs (Wolfgar)

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I'm going to miss you

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I was chasing mercury spheres across a tray

when I first saw you,

trying to draw them into a syringe.


Contemplating how a layman might best get them into

a bloodstream.

We shook hands and went for coffee in the atrium.


You briefly outlined your career path,

and we chatted combatively

about breaching recently enhanced security measures. 


In China we fe...

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Not summoned by bells

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Nature fills the happy hours

on sacred ground among the flowers, 

while in-between the broken stones

young lovers warm their flesh and bones.


As bells of evensong ring soft,

behind the crypt an angel coughed.

For nature pay’s no heed to bells

and secrets are what no-one tells.


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Pre-enlightened vista (a predictive text)

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The concourse at Waterloo Station

its mass of symmetry,

straight lines criss crossed by wayward walkers,


who with seemingly aimless trajectory, dance alone,

yet together.

their eyes cast down seeking elevation.


Programmed to arrive without noticing their path,

atheist traveller’s, 

their faith in nothing asks nothing of them. 


Their gods are reliable,...

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All this indulgence in spring

the obsession with beginnings,

green chutes sprout through those trod in 

when GAIA takes her winnings.


With false hope we hope

the cycle might shift the mass,

we mythologise the coming life

the bluebells in the grass.


The lambs so sweet and tender

but our cruel hearts don't miss a beat,

their chance of life is slender


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Hostis Publicus (a warning)

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And those that disassemble lies,

their hands are tied.

Scales are placed on seeing eyes,

the truth denied.


The machine rewinds,

its cogs of wisdom realigned

words once free,

now grist to grind.


With such actions,

violence finds a fist, a boot, a gun,

to break the fear filled silence

and free the shackled tongue.


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