I don’t want to mask my poetry

I want you to understand me

Curse your perfect rhythms, rhymes, haikus

Your lyricism, your literary

When I try to adopt it, I turn mute.

Something channels through me

(I’ve never really found the root)

A demanding stream of consciousness

That cannot stop to breathe, let alone

Wait, conceptualise, draft, redraft

I can’t!

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Rhapsody of rays.. 
Ravine resplendent and rich.. 
Rapturous romance..

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moonlight tastes sour

sweat runs through bedroom sheet veins

she gives up on sleep

hallway footfalls

undesired sharp edges

reverberations

echos beat within

in discord with her heart

as hands grip at wind

doorknob, alive, there

embraced by her palm frantic

gasp … inhale … freedom

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Beck Stone

Rounded lump of grey gritstone now balanced in the beck

Divides rushing stream linking high heather moor to distant sea

 A shining silver thread through dale and wold to wide Humber

This same stone, surface scrubbed smooth by falling water

Now releases a stanza carved by a craftswoman from a script written by a poet

Ink to paper

Hammer to chisel

Rock to eye

Wo...

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