Poetry Blog by Adam Whitworth (Work In Progress)
Move on past the Black Horse, take the steps
reeling right and left up the green shoulder.
You're in the woods best called "the real world".
Magical of course. Moss-carpeted trees
hollowed to join anon their blown over brethren,
upon whose crazy crumbled limbs you ramble.
In fact this green land that dips and swells
is but sleeping giants and dragons and God knows what.
Monday 2nd December 2019 7:15 pm
Silence seems to be practising on me
from that uncertain distance
where the sky meets the sea.
Looking so far without obstacle
I don't know what I perceive.
Is that the other bank of a vast river,
and how might things be viewed from there?
On a day like this great ocean is
laying foam upon the sands
awakening my toes way down there
miles above my head wide sky is
Saturday 28th April 2018 10:47 pm
That's one small step turned to stone,
a plinth for my reaching figure:
beckoning to one who isn't here
as one who isn't here beckons unto me.
One giant leap, and unpractised,
one size fits all I understand
say it over and over with
flowers, poetry, with moondust.
Friday 1st December 2017 12:41 pm
Aesop began mumbling a long time ago:
"Determined to care f o r
rather than care a b o u t"
similarly, the Idiot Soldier who ran through Archemides:
"having come this far"
Pliny The Elder:
"the public park in clement weather"
then also The Younger:
"where I count the blades of grass"
the Pied-Piper, if he ever existed, would surely add:
"I must count them"
and King ...
Friday 8th September 2017 12:42 pm
WHAT on earth is that in the mirror?
One day he sees a chained slave
the very next a crowned king
next day...who can tell the heart of love's creature?
It is his truelove who keeps his heart
and she who shows wisdom
putting by a little as seed-corn
where the grass is always greener
and no foot treads.
There out of sight a spring pure
and clear begins to bubble
Saturday 26th August 2017 3:12 pm
We view the prospect before us
with the uncertain mood of our weather clutching
all kinds of lucky charms in shallow sleep
we stormed away from the mainland
now all our fingers are crossed
that we don't wake up up
to our necks in deep water
Our seers are forecasting like mad
but who can really see around corners
no-one here would like to
find themselves adrift in a slo-mo crash
Monday 7th August 2017 7:35 pm
From here we can follow him outside, where it is a bright day.
It is the leaves on the trees that are like music in his mind.
He could dwell long on a few as heart-achingly beautiful.
There is a fashion for one shiny side and one dull.
Many gather together forming ever-changing phantoms.
A good portion of his view consists of shimmering leaves
but we know each and every one will not bea...
Sunday 5th March 2017 2:59 pm