Poetry Blog by Adam Whitworth (2019, poetry)
There's a stand of woods to which I'm drawn
hand on the bark to be sure.
And tinctures right earthy
now real, now elusive, grow heady
among spires all rooted to the core.
And you want your love to know your love?
Stand here but more than enough.
And swear sweet this love new made
of the grove's inspired clay,
your longings conveyed by the doves.
Thursday 3rd January 2019 12:30 pm
May be read or unread
that is not our concern
bloom spontaneous in hermetic mind.
May be misunderstood
or diluted in time
restoreth a most ancient faith
by a most novel innovation.
May wield the harsh weapons
of a vengeful orphan
distracts a fool from his folly
installs a world unnoticed.
May be a phial of stage blood
to stain the sea red
Tuesday 10th July 2018 6:41 pm
A few silent words lay between us
on some stained and shady card-table
for all the song and dance now skip'd along
and each chosen line stands for ten
this the burden of being penned
A bitter glass of judgement lies full-drained
truer thirst realised in venom-fail
offer a fair hearing to one dream-sane
the slightest insight magnified
for its own sake rest satisfied
Tuesday 31st January 2017 5:47 pm