Brighton-based poet, keen to read and hear new work, share my own and connect with the wider poetry community.
Glad I moved here. I’m deeply in love With where I live. If I never walk down the aisle Or craft a child in this womb My heart will still be full Of the crush I have On the dreamcoat of terraces That ride up and down the hills And the crunchy aural morning ablutions Of seagulls egging each other on. My stomach would still freewheel At the legacy of hedonism That is the mortar of this town. The drumbeat of artistry And the alleyways – late to rise but Full of the echoes of falling change And nests of temptation My pupils will always dilate Over the spotless lemon blue summer evenings That languish over the downs Painted onto my face like ripe paint And – saliently - the abrupt, wet spirit of us all Non-negotiably pulsing iron Or lying in absolute stillness Spooned by the shore. This town, like the hills shook out their doormat Towards the water and made Eden With what came out. I run into its arms Like a thumb through dough.
All poems are copyright of the originating author. Permission must be obtained before using or performing others' poems.
Dry eyes in the house (17/08/2022)
Are we grains of salt? (17/08/2022)
untitled pillows (16/08/2022)
In the hammock (16/08/2022)
To the man wanking at us on the nudist beach (16/08/2022)
Do you want to be featured here? Submit your profile.