15 minutes of Sonnet 25
It’s not love they play it’s another game
Where what matters is who can count the most
Playing duck and dive, surfers search for fame
Notching names upon digital bedposts
Their followers adore them with their likes
Each character praised as if from God
If their own petard hoists them onto spikes
Then surely, it’s the crowd that has turned odd.
Their ledger marking...
Saturday 27th April 2019 8:52 am
A 40-Watt Sonnet
Sit up with closed eyes and the lamp on,
reel the days back with lightbulb sunsets,
plant your feet and turn time's dance down,
then rise from the west and come back to bed.
Don’t let the orbiting swirls of the chair
remind you of our old days ahead.
We've already been through those.
In a roundabout way, we'll be
there again. Arguing about the clouds,
Sunday 12th August 2018 2:28 pm
I am I without a name!
I am I
Without a name
I am I still
Without a name
You may wish to call me in the dark of night
You may wish to reach out,
When I am out of sight,
You may wish to write me a poem,
A song or a sonnet
What name shall you then
Write upon it,
So precious name,
You are not in vain,
Addressing this house, this body, this frame,
Though it too will change...
Saturday 20th May 2017 10:40 am
A sheet of ice on black pavement gleaming
As frost, settled on shrubs, illuminates
A white powder morning and activates
The sound of grass, underneath feet, crunching.
I with my twin brother wander, beaming
Along the path untouched, to what fascinates
The mind of two children and resonates,
Bridging the gap between awake and dreaming.
For brief moments the world was fr...
Sunday 1st February 2015 7:05 am
The Taliban of Christianity,
Are guardians of our nation’s moral health,
Protecting men from femininity,
They worship pomp, and privilege, and wealth.
They disapprove of how and whom we love,
Deny our civil right to earn a crust,
To work in schools for our Lord above,
Those bigots trample freedom in the dust.
No paedophiles then, in the Church of Rome?
Tuesday 9th February 2010 1:05 pm
When you behold the shimmering stars at night,
You ask if all that beauty’s in your eyes,
You close them, pensive; here within my sight,
Your form so exquisite provokes my sighs;
That hawthorn flowered path on which we walk,
Has scent that’s just as sweet before we meet,
Those songs without words in each precious thought,
Become enchanting music when you speak,
Saturday 6th February 2010 10:36 am
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