Poetry Blog by Colin Hill

this is not an explanation

you won't ever get me
the paint drips, the splodges, the splashes
the poetry, the way it all comes together
through absences and curiosity
sometimes I am here, sometimes not
I am zoned out, cigarette in mouth
white t-shirt, big sky landscape


you won't ever find me
I might be here in front of you
I may even talk a little, mumble things
wander off down a meadow path
to the lake, fish...

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your voice, your voice, came whispering
through the white waving heads of the cow parsley
it echoed down the sunken lanes of this fair county
from my memory to the inside of yours
a story of imprinted landscapes laid bare


your touch, your touch, once brushed
the flushed cheeks of wild red campion petals
an innocent at dawn with caressing fingertips
easing the milk from creamy white te...

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The Day After


we crowded round the party table
with neon halos in our hair
our bare feet on the kitchen floor
bread and wine to share
you said that one of us was bad
and in the morning we would see
how careless words cause chaos
our futures not so free


words ©Colin Hill 2018
Times New Roman font


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keep moving you whisper
the only safe thing to do
through dandelion fields 
once yellow with promises
where a footpath crosses
barely visible
like the secret run of a badger
diagonal from edge to edge
avoiding obstacles with booted feet
and the air blistering overhead
wide brimmed tin hats casting shade
eyes on the scything swifts
squelch of mud between steps
and over we go
the ...

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Leaving Goldilocks

these lines
on which I write my words
will follow the curvature of the Earth until
out in the distance
they burst into significance 


out there
we can only imagine what it must be like
to look back on ourselves
the ant colony we call humanity
cosy in our Goldilocks Zone


yes those were bad times...
not the best of times...
so we let them go...


and as we journey on
aware that...

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our heartbeats float in whispers
dust motes pepper the air
the mottled mirror hangs askew
in it your reflection

I don't know what you're thinking
or even if you like me
you brought me here and now
you don't know what to do with me


this room on the first floor
the world looking in
but you like it that way
you say you find the intrusion 'cosy'


an overgrown cheese plant

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hung from a pendulum thread
dental floss thin
cuts the skin 
like an overladen shopping bag
swaying to 
swaying fro 
in your hand the essence of being
a takeaway life
curried strife
songs of swings and roundabouts
playground fights
bullied nights
the muted television in the corner
lights the room
dares to presume
that all is well with the outside world
lottery cash
dolphin sp...

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on the fringe of realms

flight paths criss-cross on the fringe of realms
the robin lands on a confusion of chicken wire
looks about before darting in to feed his partner
sparrows and blue tits fly straight into their nests
away up the slope a thrush like an arrow nearing
pauses for one moment on the rusted fencing
then dives into the tangle of hedge and briars


in the bottom field a squadron of carrion crows 

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"Daddy Was an Old Time PREACHER Man"

Been thinking about the word 'PREACH' today

How Madonna implored her Papa not to
Would have been a waste of time anyway
She'd already made up her mind


And Stevie Wonder beseeched the PREACHERS
To keep on PREACHIN' to reach the higher ground


Drake said it six times - I don't know why
PREACH PREACH PREACH - and that makes six
I guess he wan...

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wild thing

entry picture

I miss dragging on a cigarette
drinking until my head is wrecked


dancing until my legs are dead
not hearing what the hell you said


inside the music's cranked up loud
our hearts are pumping to the sound


of disco, punk and reggae beats
the laser lights and strobes compete


with dodgy drugs and taking risks
swigging back cold cans of Schlitz


we're just clowning not f...

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another poem


there’s a patch of sunlight on the hill
it’s not too far away
the white blades on the new windmill
are slicing up my day


every minute they go round and round
morning, noon and night
I stand in hope and wait spellbound
for a future shiny bright


words ©Colin Hill 2018


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a poem


the sea was romaine lettuce green
the sky a blueberry blue
the clouds were patterned coffee cream
the boats a lemony hue


the day was bleeding beetroot red
the night black liquorice glue
the moon was buttery brioche bread
the dough of mornings new



words ©Colin Hill 2018


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escape routes

staring at the cracks in the ceiling
he went in search of unexplored lands
lost worlds mapped in lines and stains
one-eyed cyclopes in missing plaster caves 

there the route to King Solomon's Mines
Quatermain exhausted he falls to sleep
forty leagues of adventure dreaming
he climbs Kanchenjunga in The Lakes

exploring Slater Bob's copper mines
'sing out if you see rocks under water, Ro...

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nothing else matters

you are up there

balanced momentarily on the edge
fingertips touching the sun
the taste of your heartbeat on your tongue
startled air fizzing in your lungs


on the coping
on the crest of a wave
on the cusp of immortality


the descent is a controlled dive
a countdown to the next ecstasy
a wall of water or concrete curve
elemental in that instant
friend and foe


you went i...

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Dead Dove Sketch

entry picture


'Ello, I wish to complain about this dove of peace
what you 'ave been selling for over half a century 
from this very international alliance boutique.


Oh yes, the, uh, the United Nations Blue...
What's,uh...What's wrong with it?


I'll tell you what's wrong with it, my good sir.
It's dead, that's what's wrong with it!


No, no, it's uh,...it's resting.
Remarkable bird, the ...

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She showed me Seven

She showed me seven gemstones
Said each stone was something special
But to me they were just seven stones
Seven stones identical and dead


She showed me seven wildflowers
Said each flower had a different petal
But to me they were just seven flowers
Seven flowers identical and dead


She showed me seven bright stars
Said each star was a different universe
But to me they were just s...

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Red Snow in the Morning

we watched with growing incredulity
was that really red snow on Mars?
surely the television would never lie?
or the Russians deny they'd got there first?

the son of a son of a spaceman
Buzz opened his Tesla umbrella
he bent down and scooped up a red ball
like raspberry ice cream in a pitcher's hand

he lobbed it at Armstrong Jr's daughter
who turned and wobbled on 
3.72076 ms−2 gravity ...

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Montana, 1879

The axe falls in time with his breathing
The nutcracker bird calls in time with his swinging
The sun draws beads of sweat from his forehead
The Yellowstone River bends around his homestead


Jessie kneads the dough in time with her singing
Daisy-May and dolly are on the front porch playing
The sun casts shadows through the ponderosa pine
The golden eagles soar along the timberline 



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21 Short Poems for a Rainy Bank Holiday Monday

waking from a bloodbath of dreams
a machete stains red across the sky
how the mind does nightly wander
in silent screams and heinous crimes

the morning comes in pools of grief
a relief to be a survivor once more
but oh at what price we turn the leaf
of life’s weary pages we so adore



Oh the utter bliss
Like a joyful kiss
A full night of sleep
With so much to reap
It's ...

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raison d'être

the sky, Yves Klein
the sun, Van Gogh
a tingle down my spine
a nod to say hello


the sand, Lichtenstein
the horizon, Rothko
a finely drawn line
a wink to say I know


the perspective, Holbein
the people, Picasso
a glass of Rhine wine
a kiss to form and blow

words ©Colin Hill 2018

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to be or not to be

to be or not to be
a published poet me
when all around
are submission bound
my words will always be free

to be or not to be
a performance poet me
when all around
are ranting aloud
my voice will always be free

to be or not to be
a winner or loser me
when all around
are fighting for ground
my space will always be free

to be or not to be
a question for you and me
when all aroun...

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Thirty-Six Views of the South Downs (after Hokusai)

1. A Great Wave at Shoreham-by-Sea

swallowing water
spume tentacles drag under
laughing children dive

2. Light Winds and Clear Skies

endless summer sun
red bicycles and ice creams
mackerel clouds lurk


3. Rainstorms

beneath the thunder
unhappy memories float
loss of a father

4. Under the New Flyover

hiding out in nooks
traffic rumbling overhead
a den of devils

5. ...

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Two by Two

We're building an ark to save humanity
To populate an harmonious new colony on a distant trajectory
Applications are now open but this is no random lottery
We want two of the best of you from each walk of life
Including minorities and anyone else we might have forgotten


A man and woman and two gender non-specifics or neutrals
And two from each of the LGBTQ plus communities
That's two o...

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Resurrecting Ghosts


These ghosts we resurrect from the past 
to reconfigure into modern-day icons
airbrushed and reconditioned to match new agendas 
grainy truths hair-sprayed and touched-up 
now repackaged and rightfully repurposed
for no other purpose than to further our objectives


Slot them into a new time frame as we choose
shift the perspective and reinvent their relevance
but however right-on ...

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entry picture



Look! Look!
Can you see the image developing?
Move the paper back and forth in the tray


(torrential rain lashed blacked-out windows)

They just appeared out of nowhere running
But as quick as they came they were gone
Heads bent and leather clad arms flailing
Strange apparitions from some ancient dawn


always running, thorns scratching, taking cover
pursued, wet to s...

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Once there lived a woman in Japan
Amid tsunami and earthquake land
And in her mind she held the ghosts
Of all the dead the Gods could boast


Among the deities to whom she prayed
With incense sticks and flowers laid
She praised Benzaiten the eloquent
For life's rich flow and essence spent


One day I happened upon her abode
Where by the hearth a snake reposed
She took the serp...

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  • 2018 (26)

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