Poetry Blog by Chris Hubbard
I will admit, if pressed for time,
That Graffiti Artists make telling points,
Expressing their fragile selves sublime
While pulling on apocryphal joints.
It's hard work peering round threat-laden corners,
Snatching moments that fashion the ego;
Time's their enemy, these spraycan performers,
Not the dying curse of autumnal Dido.
The self's domin...
Wednesday 22nd January 2020 9:06 am
Poets tire of endless impositions
which, though not enforced upon us,
remind us yet of lifelong treks
outside ourselves, while digging thus
a graven willingness to tolerate
the possibility of writing something on the minds
of younger people, so soon grown to tend bitter,
sardonic if essentially kindly
human egos. Trodden down by fear
of painful endings in fore...
Thursday 16th January 2020 2:08 pm