I shredded another box

of your stuff today

formal papers, business stuff

old bank statements and such

nothing very personal,

sitting there, whilst your affairs

slid through my fingers

falling like snowflakes into

the angry whirring cauldron

end of life cross-cut chaff,

I’d already decided that

it was going into the bottom

of a trench, beneath manure

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In view of all the negativity, going on in some place or another around the world, at the moment I thought it would be a nice idea for the Write Out Loud poets to enter the unofficial 'My Perfect View' competition.

Write a poem that describes your perfect view (this can be as per my kick-off example a fantasy composite) and add it to the blog section titled My Perfect View and remember to tag i...

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thrust together at big school

we, an unusual pair, shared

an over-polished beech desk

and splintered bench, etched

with desperate hieroglyphs

of past pubescent love affairs,

your long hair, always a problem

called out at the weekly check,

mine, a smarter quiff that

wouldn't go amiss today,

thus, we tumbled through our teens

you with sure breezy talent,

me gri...

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time is not constant,

although many consider it to be,

it has speed, mood, behaviour

and consequence,

of course we might bend,

fashion, stretch or mould time

to our will, but time

moves warily through its

promiscuous environment,

cool at dawn, lazy when warm,

erratic in rain, clumsy in fog,

its speed and passage varies

in nights’ fleeting darkness or

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