Stumbling

I fell

Into your

Head

A crowd

Had gathered

Inside

From them

I fled

My legs

Struggled 

To take

Instructions

I

Stumbled

I fell 

Protective

Arms

I wearily

Wrapped

Around

My head

To and fro

To and fro 

Promising 

Next time

‘I’ll do

better’

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Ink reflects both ego and id

Thought, the sole control

Environ and gene seek to outbid

Their versions to extol

Words, the colours shining

Scurry from past unknown

Mind pictures defining

From nerve seeds sewn

No perfect is created

Acceptance of best seen

Complete is left unsated

As is the poets dream

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shock travels, sometimes quick

other times slow

the log splitter's axe

the forceful blow

or the ravage of tooth and claw

lightning striking a shivering moor.

These moments destroy their trace

in harmony with a quick embrace;

but when a look seems wild and torn as

the slow garrotte of heart and soul

follows the taking of life in vain

then there's damnation unde...

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And she will always reflect

the hidden traits 

in which you already possess 

~ nicoline ~

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Don't let this life pass you by,

Seek the Lord, break down and cry

He'll lift you up, He'll fill your cup

Yes even though the heart's corrupt

He'll change you from the inside out

Now isn't that what it's all about

God changing us from day to day

Like a figure from a lump of clay

The choice is ours to obey

The choice is ours to kneel and pray

If only we would trust His...

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Here I sit

where you ask?

That is something i can not say,

you see where i sit does not matter

what matters is what i write when I sit

it could be about where I am sitting to

how my life is doing.

There are a million things

a million things people can write about

but at this very moment, here lies a blank paper

a paper that has emptiness spreaded all over

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50 SHADES OF BLEACH

I want to scrub you senseless

while wearing pink rubber gloves

I want to squirt my bleach 

down your scummy u-bend

then I’ll flush your porcelain  organ clean

I want to suck the dust from your filthy, strained,

 furry, rug

I want to polish and fondle your brass knobs

until you sparkle all over my face

I want to disinfect your sticky, slutty su...

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A series of very short poems and non poems about the normal things in life

There was a scrunched up bit of paper

It sat in the corner of a room

It was Tuesday

A rhyme about cheeses

Brie, Brie, I love thee

Please won't you get into me

Camembert, Stilton and craft cheese slices 

That last one is not the nicest

At 4 o'clock each day, he ran

Except on the d...

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I DECIDE

Withering on yew tree vines

Left with no voice

Filling the graveyard broken dream mind  

Lost Pre Raphaelite desire

Creates a heartbeat

Compelling beauty

In silent splendour

Universal truth, embracing familiarity

Thick Paint lined  

Hands melancholy life

Moth lit fires

That spiral and swirl

Hold fire, lingering until nothing transpires...

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Cyberwonky

In virtual villas up silicon valleys

where slithering software saves smart system scans

as digital data on double-click disk drives,

pixelling programmers podcast their plans.

So beware blogging browsers with up-to-date hardware

fragmenting folders and battering RAM,

smashing your windows, uploading your icons,

cluttering your desktop with cookies and s...

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TRUST

There’s mellowness in growing older,

Like sweet wine that lustres and glows,

Like a breath of warm air in the winter,

Like the petals that fall from a rose.

So you can’t run and stairs are a problem,

And to ease from your chair causes pain,

But the glory of life sings around you,

And you revel in every refrain.

Twenty-five thousand odd sunsets,

Ju...

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nice idea, but 40 and over?  these people have only just learned to cross the road on their own. Now when will we get a competition for OLDER poets?

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Why try to be someone else, ​

​It's fine being me.

So long I have hidden, 

​Imitating others so I can fit in,

So long each crowd I'm not welcome. 

The party goer needs a people that tries new things, 

The body of Christ needs a people that has perfect ways,

 Being in between doesn't suit anyone,  that say. 

You know?, I've been someone different at every poin...

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Let us be together, 

Till universe runs out of space

Till the light loses its pace
Till time stops for us at our ends so that we could hold hands, 

and kiss farewell.

Let us be together, 

For you are the reason I live for. 

For every wound you are the cure. 

And of one thing I am sure. 

  I'll love you everyday, more and more and more. 

Let us be together. 

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Rest in my loving Jesus arms

Rest in him he will make no demands

Feel his arms securely around you

Giving you strength and peace anew

See in his eyes a love that is true

Feel his cleansing, making you new

Grow into love and joy untold

And see his purpose for you unfold

He loves the young ones and the old

His love alone more precious than gold

So in his arms ...

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Oh no, not him again!

She places the cappuccino on the counter

and accepts the woman’s correct money

with a distracted smile. 

It is Monday morning after an eventful weekend

that was both ecstatic and disastrous

in equal measures

and now here was the reason in her queue waiting to be served. 

She would have got her assistant to serve him

but had just sent her on her brea...

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The third one was born alive
the second one so and so
the first let's forget about him.

Nobody said it'd be easy
to tread on this land of discomfort
to walk among throngs of discordants.

The first day he thought rain was sunshine
the second he drank from the pond
the third one he picked all the flowers

and wiped off his tears with their leaves
and lay on the petals till sunset
and...

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The man who worships death

May find death before his time.

The man who worships life

Will find life lives in this rhyme.

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soft waves breaking at ankle height
I could stand here a millennia
buried in the ebb of the Atlantic
eyes shut in starlight
a tourist to the shipwrecks 
that I've made to feel like home

sink like titans
relics recycled and burned
churned inward, twisted steel
molten and flash-cooled into islands
black, shining, bare
clean again, beaches of shedded
shredded, split history
in another ...

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It’s the final burial ground –

the place where they go to die;

lapping dirt-brown waves;

tourist couples bidding goodbye.

Ships slicing through soundlessly,

as smog adorns the sky.

A pigeon hobbles by on its stump,

while a gull lets out a mournful cry;

beside benches, an old man holds out his cup;

on the cobblestones stands a solitary bride.

A homeless girl leans agai...

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Did Jethro Tull invent the seed drill

While standing on one leg

And playing a flute?

Did Duran Duran build a pleasure machine

To erotically kill Barbarella

While singing Girls On Film?

Did U2 fly at great heights

Monitoring Russian airspace

While singing Angel Of Harlem?

Was Franz Ferdinand assassinated

Riding in a carriage in Sarajevo

While singing ...

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They made too much brown bread so they had to find a way of getting rid of it.  They told us that brown bread was good for you. A lot better than white bread which they said was now pretty bad stuff. Of course white bread was fine when they were making too much of it. It’s a bit like that shortage of cigarettes they are trying to deal with by telling us all that they are killing us.

The kids ar...

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The dress hangs from the door

She awaits his call,

Princess syndrome,

Fleeting moments,

Of lies and half remembered truths,

always someone else to blame 

From this,

Forgiveness is the key 

To the castle,

People lie,

To save themselves

How does she know 

Hers is not the only dress 

The only door,

For in the sweet intuition

Of a woman's mind

The truth ...

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(Forget Marriage Guidance Counselling)

There’s summat that a husband like me dreads

That they ought to warn a bloke of when he weds;

That’s the sound of Our Gert’s call

And her ominous footfall;

That’s why the Great Almighty gave us sheds.

Before my sheds I’d guarantee fine well

I’d get caught doing nowt and I’d cop hell;

I tried mirrors round the yard and

Trip...

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talent is spread too evenly round

for anyone’s words to truly resound

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https://www.wevideo.com/view/572078012

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My father was not born an orphan

And now the state agrees

Absent. He is a holy mystery, to me.

The massacre of the Innocents

Children celebrating Easter blown into pink dust.

In the name of God.

The words of the prophet are perfect and deep

You sow as you reap

You sow as you reap.

The unholy priest

With the holy words
.

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Dear all;

Had a busy month on this month with the Goya Press annoucement earlier on this month and also having a hand with the Write Out Loud Stockport specials (as mentioned elsewhere on Write Out Loud) but the next big project I am doing is Ghost Story III as part of NaPoWriMo (National Poetry Writing Month) following on from the last two years, Ghost Story and Ghost Story II.

Like last ye...

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Foot-torn, the path of leaves.

Dead, borders are green, still.

I am white.  I turn.

I am now looking with paled eyes,

across a broken pit of river

up, above some untidy shack;

the train on the hill climbs,

smoke billows, a raincloud summoned

from beyond.

I turn back and see rows,

of autumn-blushed houses

fall silent on this minute.

You are only a passing mist.

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Just a minute is all it takes

To get up

Get dressed

Take a shower

Take a leak

To decide which way to go

To share a coffee with a friend

To smile and laugh

To catch the train

To reach the airport

It takes just a minute

To wait

The check my passport

To make the decision

Which route to the boarding gate

Just a minute to hear the boom

To fall to the...

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You see me in the world but I wish that I could hide,

So I hide the only way that I know how,

I find my escape from the things I keep inside,

I struggled way back then and still do now.

I pass you in the street and I mouth the word "hi"

My hurried steps tell you I do not,

Have time to chat, I have to rush on by,

I'm so busy....or at least that's what you thought.

...

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Should we walk by the waters edge
Or swim against the flow,
Where men in oceans, stained with red
Live shortened lives below?

Should we walk by the waters edge
Or break against the waves,
Where women flounder where they fled
In watery graves?

Should we walk by the waters edge
Or thrash against the tide,
Where children drown in sunken beds
Whose parents made them lie?

Should we wa...

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A CAGE WENT IN SEARCH OF A BIRD

Kafka

What use is a cage

that's become afraid

of its own trappings -

its mirror, its bell its swing?

What use is an opening 

that doesn't stay open?

What use is a perch

that doesn't stay still?

No use thinking things

will change

should a bird fly in

and make itself at home.

What use is a co...

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Infant eyes open

Watching mine cry

Tears of love.

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Descends amidst the catastrophe

Prefers the straw over thrones

Tends the grazing cattle

Frolics that “dark-skinned”

With the street urchins

Aiming stones at the earthen pots

“Trades of milk”; he aptly defies

First feed kids in the countryside

Heals the wounds with peacock feather

Melts over pounded rice of the poor

Colours all in tunes of oneness

Of his s...

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They can kill us maim us berieve us . Our faith our beliefs  are our own . Never preached or planted in our minds by people full of hatred and , The Bain Of Mankind . We bring people In to this world and they just take them away to do what they say . No remorse felt for others they leave disabled or dead . Their existence is taken because of this thread . Our fight is for our lives , and not for t...

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I’m Leaving For A Wetter Man

“I’m leaving for a wetter man”,

your email said. My humour’s dry.

Surely you meant “Better man” or “Weatherman”.

“I’m leaving for a wetter man” -

Perhaps I should have bought a dam,

or dressed up in a puddle tie.

“I’m leaving for a wetter man” -

your email said. My tears won’t dry.

From my new collection of 'Short Funny Love Poems'

ww...

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All of a sudden the air becomes thin

And the glee of jumping out of work on Friday like a drunken chimpanzee is gone

Instead the day becomes heavy…

Weighed down in disbelief that the minutes are ticking faster and faster

“Surely it’s not already twenty past three”

Then the evening falls, like a Transylvanian night

The gargoyles and wolves howling as you are passed your last right...

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For the third time

Peter.
Listening to the cockerel.
Again.
Waits as a tear develops
In his eye.
Kicking Love away to die.

He waits.
Floating.
Nowhere to go.
Except down.
This isn’t how He meant it to be.
But here it comes.
The mounting wave of pain.
Threatening.
Entreating Him.
To wave His arms
And save Himself.

This is drowning.
This is drowning
In the sea of the Cross.
...

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Switch off the TV’s

Cover their ears

Wrap them in cotton wool

Drink all their tears

Drown them in fairy tales

Sing them sweet songs

Take them to places

The bad don’t belong

Bathe them in sunshine

Shower them with love

Serve them their childhood

Wearing kid gloves.

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Catechism

I will not be defined by ancient Gods,

or the archaic teachings in their books.

I will tread warily around their words

and avoid the hidden traps and snaring hooks.

I will not stand behind a coloured flag

and spout my blunt imperialistic views

or drape it on a coffin when I die

or burn it on the early evening news.

I will not make a choice that’s...

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Good Friday cross to bear

Why did you crucify me ?

Here comes the resurrection

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Whatever happened to those noble mountain men,

darlings of the media,

Ronnie’s holy warriors,

freedom fighters, locked

and benevolently loaded?

And do monumental errors

have a domino effect

in a land where the one eyed man is king?

And who are these dirty radicals

decapitating Capitol,

where did they get Kalashnikovs

and did they pay in dollars?

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When I hear this music
I think of you
Crashing through my senses
Like a thunderstorm 
Painting colours inside my eyes

I do not know you
I do not know myself
Things are changing 
Beyond my control.

When it was simple 
The melody was soothing
But the two parts now encountered
Absorb each other
Becoming one

The quickening of my pulse
Takes me by surprise .......

Is it thoughts...

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On Monday night I read at the Liver Bard`s Ma Boyles, which is next to
 the little church yard where - in 1943 - one of the Wrens from the
Western Approaches headquarters (which was just up the road) gave
half of a - then impossible to get - banana to one of the fourteen 
year old cablegram lads who used to deliver cables to them, and
 rewarded that young lad`s taste buds with an absolute del...

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These words are loaded
Like Alfred Nobel's factory shed

After the explosions
May come the notoriety

After false reports of my demise
Will come some atonement

After the prize
Then hopefully the peace

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Lips: like cliché cartoon roses.

Yes, red.

But open up my mouth,

Those lilies will  -   snap.   -   You.  -   Up.

Thorn in your side.

I think we used to fly with the bats,

The doves always ended up on our dinner table,

I told you it was chicken.

You choked me with Amen,

You squeezed me with your hand for grace,

For grace, from grace I fell

Down from the heaven...

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I was standing in line
at check-in
at the bakers
queuing for the morning bus
for water              
in the hope of a job

I was buying flowers for my love
drinking coffee
smoking a cigarette
wondering where the next meal
would come from

I was going to tell the boss to stick it
smiling at the memory of you
feeling the sun on my face
wishing blessings on the day

when

the bomb...

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Blow me up

Blast me against the wall

Burst me with bombs and guns into a thousand pieces

Shoot me down dead

With bullets to the head

And while my blood runs into the sand

Just think for a moment

That you could have shook my hand

Said hello

Fired words at me

Instead of bombs.

You could have screamed at me if you wanted,

Shouted, screeched and yelled.

You could...

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The Poetess

It was the twelfth
Of the twelfth
and
11 days ago
She searched for
10 different ways
To say the same thing
Wrote 9 down
Pondered on 8
Chose the best 7
At 6 she thought she was complete
Then decided to use the first 1

In her pursuit to find
The perfect muse
Move away from the vacuous norm
She travelled
Sojourned many less-trodden shores
Met a rainbow of natives
Wi...

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Have you ever had a pressing need to poo

privately - politely - any hole will do?

At last – reprieve! - but the door won't latch

and it swings back and forth back and forth

until you must ignore it to get on with business?

Just as you drop your drawers with sycophant relief

someone sits beside you upon a velvet cushion

like those in a gaudy theatre and starts to make sm...

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opening wings he charges

the other scurries and settles

he charges again the other

scurries and settles again he

charges the other scurries and

hops off the flat wooden rail and

flies across the calm

green harbor toward the barking

sea lions basking obesely

on the low wooden docks

set aside for them a boy

run-stumbles-pointing-squealing

gull! gull! he opens his ...

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We eat waffles in bed

With coffee

In the morning

The cat sat fat between us,

Outside the sun is shining

And the birds are happy

It is spring,

Fortune has dealt it's hand

And we're sunny side up

Knowing nobody will come

Calling for us today

We can sit undisturbed

And digest the Sunday news

And orientate ourselves

For the week ahead;

The bombing in Ist...

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Acquire my peace within yourselves

She is nobody’s disciple,

a dither of image and noise,

amongst everybody’s daily causality.

No crowds will gather,

as she looks into the eyes,

that lie tied, and tired in front of her.

She is every colour

of skin, every age, every weather,

every obedience and whim, with no morality.

Dwelling in a magdala

of imm...

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I stopped many times hoping for you to see

But you didn’t even glance at me

Now I have walked ahead

So set me free.

I walked bare feet

On the rainy days & in summer heat

It hurt as I began

But I dint want to run

I walked step by step

Experiencing all the pain

The roads rough & pitch dark

Now don’t call me back

I will never forget the road you made...

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Dragged up in back streets

this working class kid made good

in learning and position

I had the job, the money, the status, more money

I was ready

But then a voice said

YOU are not dinner party material!

I cried

then whined:

The further education?

The aspirations?

The witty repartee?

The middle class accent?

The money?

A voice said you are NOT dinner party ...

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Synonymous with vulgarity
No filters from thoughts to words
No impediments when set a course
Your very existence should be a verb  

And she
She never lies-unless you want her to
Does not divulge 
Who she is 
She becomes whomever you want her to
And women lie

Be she-She doesn’t, 
A lost for word she isn’t
Cold to your advances
Unflinching at your demands
A twister of words and cir...

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About the Skein I’m In

“It all depends on the skin you’re living in.”

Sekou Sundiata

A Family of One

Sometimes when we’re together I don’t feel like a family of one. One of us starts a repetitive phrase for momentum, and the other will pick up pitch, tune and rhythm to meet the other somewhere in a chord. Themes in our rotations lead us to rendezvous’, sometimes in the house of Reily o...

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On Hockney Road, has Bradford's famous son

now been downgraded in-between the blocks

of some industrial park, to slink among

gaunt grubby retail units? It's a shock

to find him here, though fittingly perhaps

there is a modern style to his surrounds -

No dour Victorian mills where, in flat caps,

redundant mill-folk scurry past the grounds

of dirt-cheap fashion warehouses to ...

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She's a star!

Ooh,int she a star?!

it gets said

over and over again

about someone who's

done

or said

something worthy of the accolade.

...but she really was (in my eyes)

rarely very angry

always willing to share her time

i'd climb onto her lap

held safe by her arm

and i'd visit woods, and cottages 

where my imaginary grandma lived

her home the...

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Her eyelids finally met that night, as they were about to conceive that beautiful child called Sleep 

There was a rattle in her bones as the Sandman whispered in her ear

"There will be no rest for the wicked and the dammed, My Darling, My Dear.

So what the Hell are you doing here?"

She never slept again.

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Held accountable
For my actions although those
Were not my actions

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Trails

Even if it was just a moment of bliss that was created from such a kiss.

The feelings that were invoke prove that our hearts were unstoppable.

The beating of your heart next to mine and the way you held my hand, told me that you wanted me.

Slowly, we kiss the night away and ended it like smoke.

Leaving only our trails in the air that let the world know, we were here.

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When does it all
Gets too much to bear
The thought of yet another day
A second more seemingly difficult
Sorrows replaces any sort of joys
Temporary and altogether
Family, friends, loved ones equals nothing
Day by day, night after night
When does it all gets too much
Too much too little in total
Eyes closed then opened
Dark skies turns grey
Giving way to clearer and brighter ones
Speak...

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How could she go

cause her daddy wasn’t far away 

unless she really wants 

to kiss to this sad song 

the difference is we both wake up

to the cadence of a different love 

then I am made like the villain 

I only want a peaceful morning 

do you remember when 

I saw you fucking him again 

don’t you forget 

to say you’re sorry

the bloom is off the rose 

let’s fin...

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I thought you'd save me

Bring me happiness and joy

I dreamt of a day when sorrow would end

I cried in your arms as I felt such pain

I held you tight as I prayed he'd hear

I thought you'd save me

I thought you'd save me 

Make me strong again

My heart is weakened although I strive

My logic is different but still in line

My life has changed

I thought you'd save m...

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i miss the silence
of your empty
hand

you drive
your face breathing
a white
light into the dark

the snow
falling like ash
on the road

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MARXMAN. "All About Eve". 1993. original album version.

I often think about her, 

turning away,

and pointing.

She points

(always)

from a winning stance...

She says that she

thinks about me,

or so she says...

I  think of her push and shove

laugh, and her fingered

arguments- I was wrong

she was often correct

and as

we crawled into each other's 

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Queen of the jungle,

                    this sprawling metropolis.

Feline and lithe,

                    She sprang in to life.

Prowling her domain,

                    feeling nothing but pain. 

But this tiger was tough,

                    used to the loneliness.

This patch was ruff,

                     devoid of rosiness,

filled to the brim with thorns,

      ...

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Its really something to feel this alone.

Not lonely, not sad.

Alone, in everything you do.

Eating alone, sleeping alone.

Being engaged, and being alone.

This is what I chose...

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That Road dont come

From the end of the barrel,

Of a gun.

That road dont come

From the 

"Get down"

Before you run.

That road dont come

From the Nigger who lost his name,

To a color.

That road dont come

From a fenced off,

Narrow place assigned to you,

And not me.

So look at the silly walls,

Through dark eyes, in a dark face,

And look at your own body,

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A man blinded by the dark,
With faith, his only guide
He walks on to help lost souls
To see the light inside.

If they could only understand
The power that they hold,
They would find a hope in life,
A new path to unfold.

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I hate being South African

My hate so filled with love

Because I love my country so much that it hurts

A throbbing

Like drums

Deep in my heart of darkness

And its' roots run through me like water

Iinto the earth reaching every corner of my heritage

My fathers blood stained land

My mothers struggle

And people I love leave me

Their roots severed with blades Of greene...

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Charred

Wood, has life,

Has meaning beyond the browns and greens,

     And they talk,

Give alarm and signal – danger,

     Animals thrive beneath -

Above and beyond and I;-

In my loneliness have met

With their solitude and know

The roots that tether,

The roots that bind to places

Outside of their belief,

Are never chosen for their own.

     They are...

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Tall Mums, short Mums

Fat Mums, thin Mums

Sporty Mums, stressy Mums

Glammy Mums, slummy Mums

All shapes and

All guises

Gauging the sizes

Of our bums Mums

Mums can cook and read books

(mostly at the same time)

Mums can sing about silly things

Just to keep in rhyme

Mums can nurse and give a cuddle

Mums can run at speed

To trouble

Mums can wipe up sic...

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Oh, this day!

A merciful day it may be

With a side dish of laughter

And smiling faces the main course

Oh, this day!

I wish it never ending

Might the hours flow unwillingly

I’d fall of great exhaustion

Oh, this day!

There be no false representation

It is sure a wonderful evening

So, may the sun never set

Oh, this day!

So fine and becoming

No ...

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Tense, all so taut

Cross, impatient

For no-one else a thought

Dark, not light

Brooding, silent

Muscles cramped so tight

Alone, so Alone

Screaming inside

Love turned to stone

Sadness and sorrow

Such painful disappointment

No light to come tomorrow

Dark, not light

Drowning slowly

Losing the fight

Slipping ...

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Kitchen – Made

Don’t sell me a kitchen!

I just don’t want to know –

Your gadgets, hobs, and worktops,

Your spotlight’s subtle glow,

Shiny, curved , steel handles,

Soft-close, wood-style doors,

Bright glass shelves and swan-necked taps,

High-line look or drawers,

Integrated washers, hidden corner racks,

Larder units towering

With my shopping neatly stacked...

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Perhaps our paths with cross again.
And I will finally be everything you wanted,
And you will be everything I've remembered.
You will grin,
I will blush,
And I'll pretend I haven't pictured this a million times before.
Sweet dreams of seeing your face again, of feeling your touch. 
The fantasies of you, I could never get enough. 
That one day those eyes would once again study my face.
Tha...

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I just have to lay here and take it.

I need to go through this.

With silence and no empathy. No emotion at all.

And then maybe he'll see. Maybe they'll all notice.

That there's something wrong with me.

I'll be just a body. Just extra matter taking up space.

All this burning pain taught me who I am; absolutely nothing.

Nothing out of the ordinary. Just being what I was meant to...

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You blew across the sky
a bird, black against the cloud
your wings beating hard
the way I was beating too

And for a moment…
I felt so alive

You slipped through
grazing my sooty skies
these pearly stars 
squealing in your wake

And for a moment…
I felt so alive

Was there something more
that we were supposed to do
some other experience
we should have expected to share

Lifted...

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Written around me, written within:
scars of my lifetime show on my skin.
This is a tooth I broke in a fight.
Here's where I tumbled, dancing all night.
Sites of injections. Chicken-pox spot.
Name of a lover better forgot.

Words in the open, words never said,
all of my stories hide in my head.
Tell me a story: now, evermore,
life has a pattern hidden before.
Tales of a lifetime carved i...

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So he was flying high in the sky 
Didn't know it was just a lie 
Surrounded by charm and delight
Is it a folly seem so alright?

Look at him,shining so bright
Slumbering on the sea at night
Scared of revelation in sunrise 
Covered in the mask of trice

Walking in his own dream 
Dream that seem to be extreme 
He seems to be going nowhere 
Outcasted in his path somewhere 

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Judges: George Szirtes (poetry), Alison Moore (short fiction) and Jacqueline Gabbitas (poetry & short fiction).

Enter online or by post, for further details go to: http://www.brittlestar.org.uk/competition-2/

Or contact us for an entery form.

  ‏@brittlestarmag

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A slipper in the sand

I sleep

I slip into

As each wave passes quietly beneath me.

An imprinting

Not unlike a mold.

Who poured mine?

A slipper in the sand

I sleep

I slip into

A musical drape of living liquid removing.

A mystery of millennia

Conducting flute and fiddle

Beneath my flesh.

The deeper I go the smaller I feel.

I slip in and

What w...

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I see them now, hand in hand, hurrying
late for school, on empty bellies; again.

But I don't see the child I first saw,
two, maybe three years ago.
The one with large optimistic eyes
keen to learn,
with a easy way of making friends;
if a little shy.

Now the missed baths on Sundays
have begun to show.
And, smell less than the lies,
however well intentioned
by a sistered proxied pare...

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