profile image


Updated: Tue, 2 Apr 2013 12:05 am

Contact via WOL


BA English & Creative Writing (Aberystwyth). MA Creative Writing: Poetry (UEA). More of a poet than a prose writer, though I write both! Keen interest in continental philosophy, particularly in Derrida, Heidegger, Jean-Paul Sartre, Albert Camus and others. Published in Popshot, Emanations, 17 Poets (UEA Anthology), Flux (UA Anthology) and the #NewWriting website.


Bookends His whiskers sprouting From where they shouldn’t, He’d shuffle along his House of leaves, Pulling down bindings To stack on his desk Downstairs for a morning read. He passed the politics; Those books that puffed out Their bindings with pride of place, Leather jackets weathered With fine wines and an evening Of smug smiles by the fire, Leaning up against ‘Philosophy’, as if they were A coalition of ethics And epistemology, And there, where Plato Moans in folds near A virgin Zizek, we find A stray Dali, belonging Opposite with the A4 spreads Of the ‘Arts’, who stand dignified In place. Stylish in a gloss That shines with greasy Fingerprints, they – A rank-and-file majority Of hard backs – pound Into the broken ‘Classics’ That rest in weary piles Smashed together by age And too often attacked By students fingering Their pages for those famous Lines, and in trying to escape To the modern fictions They find instead the ‘Histories’; A groaning shelf of weighty Volumes that threaten to break They’re only support, Yet they stand confident Behind tower shield bindings Till the old man plucks At their sturdy testudo, Brushing off the dust With a back hand, and eyeing The tomes title sceptically Before descending The stairs. With the book at His desk, he vetoes A coffee and votes Instead for a warm Earl Grey, whilst Watching the dust dance In the morning glare. Ship Containers Taking the ring from your finger You placed it between us, ‘Perhaps,’ you said, in a voice that Was altogether not your own. ‘Perhaps I’m meant to be alone,’ I stood then, coming around behind You, putting my hands in your Trouser pockets, ‘No,’ I said, Resting my head on your back And listening to your muscles Flex as you shifted your weight From foot to foot, and I could hear That inner sigh that shook the chattering Birds outside into a lull of soft Songs that filled my ears. I let you turn to face me, And I tried to catch that gaze That went to the window – roving Through our garden and clashing With the British summer rain, You never could find the words To explain those spontaneous Trips that landed you in solitude, Sometimes, for months on end You’d drift into that fragmented self That refused to talk on our walks Around the town and down To the park, where you’d sit in Silence and watch the horde Of ducks quack around your feet. I had rested my head against Your chest, and poking me gently In the ribs to make me look up You smiled and said it like some answer To a crossword puzzle; ‘I’m kettled, I can’t breathe, and my hands won’t Stretch out far enough to break the surface Of the water, and I panic and I flail my arms About and kick into that abyss below But it only pulls me further down. And in surprise I start screaming, Forgetting where I am, and my mouth Fills with water till my cheeks bulge And suddenly I feel it all in my chest,’ You pause, and I’m leaning Against the worktops watching you throw Your feelings across the kitchen tiles, And I’m angry, and I’m upset, but more than Ever I want you close, yet you seem Further than those few feet between us. The birds outside call in at the windows, Then rush to the birdbath – a cacophony Of song – and when the noise died You turned and moved to me, whispering ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.’

All poems are copyright of the originating author. Permission must be obtained before using or performing others' poems.

Blog entries by Hayden

Silence (09/08/2013)

Solstice & Summer Wayfarer (23/06/2013)

Tungsten (02/04/2013)

Couple Stragglers (18/11/2012)

Bumblebee Humblebee Dumbledore... (03/07/2012)

On the Road (20/02/2012)

The Falling Down (04/01/2012)

The Home (11/11/2011)

Knots (06/11/2011)

Voices (09/10/2011)

Read more entries by Hayden…

Blog link:

Audio entries by Hayden

Bumblebee Humblebee Dumbledore... (03/07/2012)

On the Road (20/02/2012)

Wishing For Rain (24/05/2011)

Favourite Profiles

Profile image Cynthia Buell Thomas

Do you want to be featured here? Submit your profile.


Profile image

Gareth Writer-Davies

Mon 20th Feb 2012 18:54

"Ship Containers"-more prose than poetry I thought-but I don't care; this is a fantastic poem and I don't write that very often; lovely understanding of the other party-"listening to your muscles" is a great line and explains alot.

Profile image

Marianne Louise Daniels

Wed 4th Jan 2012 09:54

I keep coming back to read "Ship Containers" - so moving and beautiful.

Profile image

winston plowes

Sat 24th Sep 2011 13:03

Hi Hayden, Thx. the pic was taken at a Pakistan flood relief event. We were all very studious that day. Winston :-)

Profile image

winston plowes

Thu 28th Jul 2011 22:54

Hi Hayden, thx for comments on Solar Lentigo. Re rhythm in 2nd stanza, this is unusual for me but it just wrote itself... :-) Win x

Profile image


Sun 24th Apr 2011 07:02

No probs. And I would appreciate to hear from you about your readings of my poems, when you get the time. All the best with your dissertation. What are you doing it on, if I may ask? :-)

Profile image

winston plowes

Tue 26th Oct 2010 08:50

hi Hayden,Thanks for commenting on the boat poem. when i wrote this i was trying to create an impression of departure/dissapearance (maybe freedom from a busy life) but agree that looking now i also see departure of an more terminal variety (freedom from life itself?) Win x

<Deleted User> (7075)

Tue 13th Jul 2010 20:05

Hello there and Welcome to our website, enjoy. Winston (Admin)

View all comments

If you wish to post a comment you must login.

This site uses cookies. By continuing to browse, you are agreeing to our use of cookies.

Find out more Hide this message