Poetry Blogs (2019, young)
Nicola Beckett on The Cost Of Your Hand (2 hours ago)
Nicola Beckett on big lots (6 hours ago)
And ugly cries.
Narrow and broad;
Abundant with shops and bars,
And people- their bodies, minds and souls scarred.
Edifices tall and sturdy.
Trapped in it are people content and happy;
And those walking on thorns, barbed and merciless;
And those breathing but lifeless.
The city is a plac...
Monday 13th July 2020 9:44 am
In honor of a night time stroll
I won’t let you down; you should say no more!
Here, take my hand. Let’s walk out this door
to be young again, like we did before…
The air will be warm, a balmy night
We’ll grab beers to go and a smoke to light
As we make our way down an empty street
moon light, flood light, crickets on repeat
At the end right there an ancient house...
Sunday 28th July 2019 3:35 am
This rumination came from growing awareness of my mortality which, in turn, is generated and measured by the expanding list of things once given or assumed that, alas, are no longer possible.
How shall I talk to you, my friend?
How should I regard you
(and will I care)
as you grow ever older before my gaze
while I stay young?
Who are you? Dare I look on yo...
Monday 15th January 2018 2:33 pm
In the beginning he would wake at every peculiar sound that came from the babies crib
In the beginning he would bring me a beverage as I fed his son whilst the moon was dimly lit
In the beginning he would rush home from work eager to see the family he created
In the beginning we were the people whom he could be himself and escape with
In the beginning we were enough
Tuesday 3rd January 2017 2:37 pm
I was young .. A simple statement that is the answer to many questions I am presented with
Why did you get drunk, and throw up in the hall way?
Why did you leave school, and truant all day?
How did you get pregnant, at just seventeen?
Why did you marry him, given what you had seen?
Doesn't it feel silly, divorcing already?
You're only 21, doesn't your life seem so craz...
Tuesday 3rd January 2017 2:32 pm
Young and wrinkly
You are not getting old
But numerically you've advanced
No, you're not getting old
You're just chronologically enhanced.
You are not growing up
But of this much I am sure
To avoid growing up
We must become more immature.
We must dance until our joints creak
And sing until we can't speak,
Laugh until our lungs ache
And love until ...
Sunday 10th January 2016 10:23 am
- For my sleeping Savannah.
Sleep my lovely, and dream my lovely.
Close your eyes and see, my lovely.
See the fifth dimension that has formed within you,
See the universe behind your eyes.
See the truth behind the lies, see the world without disguise.
- Stars dance, in a floating sway.
Creating a rip through the milky way.
Black holes begin to turn and swirl,...
Monday 24th August 2015 7:04 pm
L is for limitless.
For our limitless love
that will continue to grow.
O is for only you.
For you're the only one
I adore to see.
V is for voice.
For your voice that speaks
of an angel.
E is for extraordinary.
For our extraordinary love
for another, that is so rare.
Wednesday 22nd October 2014 2:48 am