Poetry Blog by Hayden

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I’ve always longed
to be held in silence,
a bubble of darkness
for the ears and mouth
to comprehend.
But now, I know.

Amongst the tree-twitch,
where the branches
itch the leaves
I hear far away roads,
the sound of distant voices
that are nothing.

They are silence.
The tread of my boots
on stone, the rhythmic
jangle of loose metal clasps
jar with t...

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Solstice & Summer Wayfarer

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Before I start, I just wanted to let you all know I've been long-listed to be Penguin's 'Summer Wayfarer' (see here) but in order to make it into the shortlist of ten I need public votes - I'd be keen to emphasise the relationship between poetry and nature and document my travels in verse!

You can watch my video and vote for me here, I'd really appreciate it (and the deadline is tomorrow! ...

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I hope everyone is doing well! I haven't been around much - just moved into a new place and got a new job, I should be around more often soon!


Swaying like a bus
in mid-town traffic
I topple the streets,
fade the pavements
under feet that feel
like cliffs collapsing
into puddles, a thousand

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Couple Stragglers


Here’s another draft, no pun on pint-pulling intended. Oh – also, while I’m here, I might as well tell you all I’ve passed my Masters! Haven't been here for some time - hope everyone is doing well...

Couple Stragglers

She’s all kick,
twisting in her leopard prints
like she’s seen some
new meat near the bar,
meanwhile I’m saying
‘cool it Jane, he’s not
a smooth-mover, h...

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Bumblebee Humblebee Dumbledore...

Bit of a weird recording, sounds like there's two of me at points...

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On the Road

Just audio at the moment!

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The Falling Down


Find more posts here: http://haydenwritesthings.wordpress.com/

The Falling Down

The knives and forks
are crossed on the plates
in the kitchen,

two used cups sit
quietly on the coffee table
by the sofa,

the pots and pans
we used last night swim
in a pool of cold water.

It’s mid-afternoon,
the rain lashes
at the windows,
and outside the birch
tree swings w...

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The Home

New poem! Also, if you want to read more things (maybe less poetry orientated - reviews etc) then go to my blog, here: http://haydenwritesthings.wordpress.com/ 


The Home

He takes actions,
holds them close to his
chest, feeling their weight
resting against his rib cage.

And the glasses come out
upside down, and sometimes
he rubs the inside with his
fingers to see if...

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carpetfloorglasseshaydehomelovemagicmagicalminimalmiseryshapesthe home




We have to think

about where to put

our hands.


They fumble under tables,

or rest very casually on

the table, courageously spread

across the middle as if to show

just how normal you

want it to feel.


The tea is greasy,

and you concentrate

on stroking the condensation

from your glass 

of orange juice.


The cur...

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bluescafehaydenlovemagical melvinminimalpoempoetryrainromancesadness





Someone read my poem

Yesterday. I didn’t like it.

When they had finished,

I told them they had read

It in the wrong way.


I said, ‘it’s not right.’

I said, ‘read it like this;

Someone read my poem,

Yesterday. I didn’t like it.

When they had finished.’


There I stopped. I said,

‘Wait, I’ll try again;

Someone read my...

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Sitting with shutter eyes,

Thinking of all the left behind

Children sleeping in the park,

Biting their lips and wondering

What a warm house smells like.


That double-glazing man walks

Around the house again,

And I think about all those

Men walking round in circles,

In places they’ve never been.


And the warm feeling sl...

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The wind waves.


We have hello’s

And goodbyes.


We rest by the river,

Watching the boats

Glide over glass.


The boys never

Did well at school.


Everything is orange,

And we cannot know

If the sun is bleaching

The leaves, or if

The night washes

Away the colour

In melancholy  

Shades of grey.


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Sleeping too much,

Thinking about the spaces

Hiding between words 

And trying to get



But it comes

With eyes wide shut,

Navigating those long

Corridors and buying

Clothes from empty



It beats down

On us, and we rub 

At our eyes, trying 

To see through those

Dancing flourscant 


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On a bit of a writing spree at the moment...

Usually not a good sign...





Maybe quiet times,

Holding tight, a lost 

Limb in paradox.

Floating, timid touching

And left over bone

On bone.

All quivers, left

To the elements

And empty.

We talk about

Ourselves in the 

Third person,


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Those days we wished

We hadn’t woken up,

Propped up with pillows

Perhaps, with our legs

Curled around the covers.

Arms folded appropriately

Around ourselves, holding

Chests in, pulling the guts

Spilling across the bed

Back into ourselves.

We talk then don’t talk,

And a quiet shudder or two

In the gutter was the onl...

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Cutt and Pastels

Another draft, for your enjoyment...

Cutt and Pastels

Shifting through blues,
Sniffing at the cocaine
Resting on your shoulders
After another mile trawl
Through traffic.
More tassels than talent
A the knock-me-down
Cabaret, swilling glasses
Like tomorrow was
Just another Sunday,
Clearing up was a matter
Of four walls, ec...

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And she was the empty-head,

Though she couldn't help it 

She wasn't helping herself. 


Eyes wide shut; a handbag

Of hand-me-downs and scratchcards, 

Screaming at the day-in

Day-out grind.


The hallway was always

Clogged with junk, 

The kitchen table tasted

Of tobacco.


And it would rain,  

One day, and you'd 


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Wishing For Rain


Now with added audio (felt better read).


Wishing For Rain


She spent that week,

Wishing for rain.


Every morning that




Reaching towards her.


But a dry week

Of flat-packs

And quick pick-me-ups

From a garden sale,

Hid the hate.

An attempt to resuscitate

The happy days of swing

Seats, and...

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Rinse Cycle


Rinse Cycle


It’s all about those up-downs

In the stomach,

I did it for the hit-and-miss;

A squeeze in the gut.


That’s what it was,

Hate for love, love for hate

And all of those.

Drawing together opposites;

Sucking in at the teeth,

And raging at opposites.


Love-hate, war-peace.

War-love, hate-peace.

I fought in words, li...

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New Days Nostalgia


A good evening...


New Days Nostalgia


I was the quiet one,

Silly haired,

Back-bared for another

Burnt summer Sunday

On the beach.


We’d joke about

Nine foot waves,

The shape of a dolphin’s

Fin and the way

That the sea lion

Swam in by the pier.


And the broads,

Weeping in greens,

Sobbing lakes into

Sodden ...

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happyold timessummer

Nap Nap

Another quick one, needs work...


Nap Nap

Some days I think,
And those are always
The worst days.
Life; the sigh
Hanging from
My slack jaw,
Dribbling myself into
A pillow, hoping
I make a good pool.
Waking up wet,
Mid-day sun shines
Through the curtains
And the grass outside
Sobs when I ruffle
Its ...

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A quick one...




A somnambulant wake

Of tired tights pulled

Over smooth bores,

And pleats in disarray

Far from the ironed yesterday.

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It's Been a Long Time - Gatecrash



It's been a long time since I posted. I'll start how I mean to go on...




We were the dance

Of mannequin square,

Trapped in the hush

Of a closed hand.


And the soft tap-tap

Was all it took; four

Fingertips on a soft palm,

Clapping like castanets.


And the glass drips hang,

Gasping at the candles


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Black on White


We are drips in a downpour,

Curling our way down panes

Of an autumnal rain,


We will die in Paris,

Sketched in time

By a charcoal finger

Crumbling lines

From the clouds,

To those Thursday roads

Of nowhere.



The loneliness, the rain, the roads...

That crackling light

Coughing my humerus bones

Across the bathroom wa...

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Apologies, I haven't been on here for some time, but here, have a draft poesy.




We connected in Iowa

With those bursting jackets

Jostling about us, all perspiration

To show off their new inspiration.


And it was there;

Where the plugs danced

(In electric atmosphere)

And in the inevitably tangle

We wound ...

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ComputersModern LivingPoesyPoetry




Four legged She,

Meandering through midday

Madness, with that cat

Sliding between her ankles.


A four legged waddle,

With a furry friend wandering

Why she couldn’t

Bend down to hear his purrs.


And beneath the limes,

She’d pause, for that sweet smell

Of hazy afternoons

Lost in soft summer shades.


(A little cliche).

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We youngsters bite tongues,

Scribbling before we clot

Our lungs,

And lost within feeling,

We softened our adolescent


On a splintered shard,

That tore our gums and left us



(Will probably change the last two lines - also, might make it longer).

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BIG DRAFT! Needs a lot of work on stuff such as form and structure - but I figured I'd post this now anyway. Fresh off the press, first poem written for a while (a while being more than 3 days).




Idly talking about Aristotle’s ethics

You tell me Moore about

The opera omnia of Descartes

And teach me the hermeneutics

Of traditional aesthetics.



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Days of Sod'em

The darker sides...


Days of Sod ’em


We’d clog the airwaves

With our skulls,

And melt our ears to

Plastic plates, humming

Out some tunes to

The WWW dots.


And it was all do’s and don’ts,

Nothing but a mild grumble,

A whisper down a tunnel

In the midday Channel traffic

Whilst the BBC dealt

Out the Fluoxetine.


We were t...

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A Lions Eyes

An old one, from my first yeat at university - still needs some editing. Criticism is therefore appreciated.


A Lions Eyes


Timid tiger takes a broken bridge,

Between two slender pines he sits,

And curls up like a snail shell,

To sleep and waste the day away,


He dribbles

At the common call of food,

And through the nearest bush;

Like a leopard ...

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We paint the pictures gold

Just to tease ourselves,

To please ourselves

Into wealthy thoughts.


And sometimes

We try and try to fix

The things we broke,

Only to find

The glue won’t hold.


And sometimes

We regret having given up

On that convertible

Sitting on those

Breeze blocks outside.


Yet ...

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To be known

To be known


We fought for fame,

Making names.

I was Einstein,

You went for Hannibal

Cutting into the

World’s sheets,

Hoping some things

Came from nothings.


Clutching that cricket bat,

Like Tesla’s coil - those snakes

Curled up your arms,

Entrenched within the skin.

Blood brothers to the bone,

Carving nouns

Into our arms


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The Candy

The Candy


We bit our tongues

Before we ate

Our ice creams.

You used to give me

Mine, and I mine,

Then I’d get confused.


We’d fall together

Into bear pits

And love the leaves.

Autumn fell on us

Like a heavy blanket

When you smiled.


I sacrificed myself

To myself, on that tree

In your garden.

You gave me your


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Play Pretend

Play Pretend


I put on daddy’s shoes

And you put on mummy’s

So we could play pretend

In the sepia toned picture

Hanging proudly in the hall.


Glittering like the disco balls

Sparkling in the kitchen,

With my hair combed across

And yours in a tight bun

We danced the one step.


Giant hands clapped, and

Cheshire smiles lowered with


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