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Liminal

Liminal

I live in the spaces

Between leaving and arriving,

Jumping and landing,

Fearing and surviving.

(Clutching my duffel bag on the bus

To dreaded childhood swimming lessons.)

Half asleep, half awake.

Tests all done, results await.

Sweet honeyed pause before

The axe falls, the hospital calls.

Racing mind, facing blind panic, the reels that wind.

 

Life in...

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lifeageidentity

Rule Britannia?

What with all the omnishambles of Brexit, I got to thinking about what our national identity really is.  When you think about it, we have some pretty bizarre national symbols, but ultimately what does it mean to be British / English, etc?  See what you think of this...

 

Rule Britannia?

 

Our national dish is curry, true,

Our Saint is George who dragons slew,

From Yorkshire field...

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EnglandlifeBrexitidentity

A Train of Thought

My step dad, Robin, passed away a short time ago at the ripe old age of 94.  An incredible man, he lived an incredible life, including working at Bletchley Park codebreaking during the war, putting out fires at ST Paul's Cathedral, living in Australia, India, Ireland and Scotland and writing numerous books in his role as a well respected minister and scholar.  He met my mum again after 50 years, p...

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deathlifetrainsmemory

Tell Me

Tell Me

 

Tell me, Stranger, tell me do,

What makes the world spin round for you?

What do you love, what makes you cry?

What do you hope, before you die?

 

Tell me, Father, plant a seed,

What path I follow, where you lead,

Give me compass, strength and plan,

To show me how to be a man.

 

Hold me Mother, sing me songs,

Give me rites for all my wrongs,

You g...

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connectiondeathlifelovereligion

Stu of the Steps

Been working on this for a while... not sure about it really, but see what you think..

Stu of the Steps

 

 

This is my pitch, here’s where I sit

Cardboard and cushion to keep cold at bay

Down steps from the station, just half way

Gives em time to see me, reflect a bit.

 

Not all the way down, hanging in there

Holding my own, keeping my space

Forgotten detritus of t...

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homelessnesshopelife

The Body of Life

The Body of Life

 

RIP Paul

 

Don’t hold on to the cord too long

As the casket drops back to the ground

Listen and hear the blackbird’s song

As loved ones whisper all around.

 

Holding on can pull you down,

Time to let go with laughs and tears.

One life so brief now clearly shown

Should soothe all worries, quell your fears.

 

Suits new pressed in Sunday be...

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deathlifehope

Only Connect

Only Connect

 

We don’t want to be alone…

 

But our deepest relationship is with our phone

Like a dog with a bone, checking the tone.

We swipe and we flick,, we tick and we post,

Poking, retweeting, who likes us the most?

We turn on the roast, we like and give stars,

But end of the day, do we know who we are?

 

This ain’t how it could be,

It’s wrong, do you see?

...

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connectionlifelovephonestechnology

May I Never

A poem about getting old... and staying young.

May I Never      

I may never rule the world with theories so fine

May never run past Bolt, smile and duck across the line.

I may never meet Mandela, Obama or the Queen,

I may never solve all wars, or stop leaders being mean.

I may never reach a hundred, run for thirty miles,

I may never help the hungry, turn their cries to happy...

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agedreamsfailurehopelife

Life at the Plateau

The Plateau

The view from here is calm and true

The grassy steppes stretch out of sight

From plainness slowly dullness grew

From winning I have lost my fight

Life once sharper, numbs to bland

And feet sink deeper into sand.

 

The uphill struggle left me weak

Fingers bloodied, grip was lost

Each ridge ahead still seemed the peak

Life was stripped, I paid the cos...

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hopedepressionlife

Grave Thoughts from Above Ground

Wrote this after a visit to Southern Cemetery... see what you think.

Grave Thoughts from Above Ground

 

They lie so quiet in the ground

While leaves and nuts fall all around.

The slanting sun, the shadows fall

The squirrels scamper, magpies call.

 

The shortest stories ever told,

Their lives in stone stand out in bold.

A middle name they won’t confess

Or all three ...

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deathhopelife

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