Poetry Blog by Chris Hubbard
Django woke slowly as the heavy dusk closed in,
Framed within a simple deal window. The street below
Began to quieten. Stray comments wafted from the inn;
Across the way drinkers cursed the gathering, drifting snow
As he lay in semi-wakefulness. The dying sun flicked
A parting salute along the cobbled roadway, her crimson
Painting its gaudy standards in fairground red. ...
Monday 29th March 2021 3:35 pm
The Dark Land
Surveying this place I tend to ponder
What it means to be torn asunder,
Divided between two unlike worlds
And no-man's land where the bagpipes skirl.
On one hand the fires burn so high
As to illuminate an empty sky.
On the other, myriad darkened places
Embrace broad ranks of fearful faces.
Their hopes serve merely to calm their fears,...
Tuesday 23rd March 2021 8:56 am
The Train Won't Wait
The train won't wait in the station,
Its four-faced clocks command
While I clatter past startled travellers
Threadbare luggage in hand.
I watch as a carriage begins to slide
And my race is almost run; oh
The Devil's work without a doubt,
A scalding in place of fun.
The scene dissolves in disorder,
The station crowd's undecided;...
Thursday 4th March 2021 2:00 pm
Hope In Any Other
Sitting outside the Welcome Break
where mental meteors abound
In armoured constellations:
Money, love, my ownliness
Lie shattered on its grimy ground.
No mask denies my consternation,
The burnt ones being still alive.
The city churns out embedded harm
At passing motorways of hopelessness;
Conveyor belts that strain and strive
To deliver start...
Wednesday 17th February 2021 12:13 am
Not Quite the Same
Move stealthy as the dusk on
cloudy, blustery days when voles emerge
and the ravens, mere black arcs,
flap dysfunctionally at receding skies.
Creep like highwaymen surprised
among discretely flowering hawthorns,
demanding instant admission
to a secret surge of beauty.
Follow as a narrow stream, emergent
from its bubbling creator, pour...
Monday 8th February 2021 11:05 pm
INTO THE STORM
I saw great billows fill and build
over verdant hills of grace
as shining songbirds danced and trilled
and the sun fell into place.
Then behold the mighty nimbus
alight in their dying flames,
strike like an angry mistress,
her thunder her crying shame.
Up, up they roiled and soared
in righteous indignation, as
Tuesday 26th January 2021 3:14 am