As a child I spent my weekly pocket money (3d) on stationery and sat every evening by the coal fire in our council house, pencil poised over my pocket notebook from Woollies. I was waiting for inspiration. Decades later I started a mindfulness practice and I started to write. I write fragments and some of them feel true. Some of them are beautiful to me. All of them come from a place that I might call 'home'.
A flock of words Flies across the page And lands precisely
All poems are copyright of the originating author. Permission must be obtained before using or performing others' poems.
With a nod to Dylan (Bob not Thomas) (14/03/2017)
In Budapest (26/02/2017)
La Petite Mort (20/02/2017)
Autumn Leaves (17/02/2017)
The End is Nigh (12/02/2017)
I'm ready if you are (10/02/2017)
I'm Doing Okay (05/02/2017)
Norway 3 (25/01/2017)
Norway 2 (25/01/2017)
I lived my life that way (23/01/2017)
Viewed 318 times since 02 Jan 2017
Do you want to be featured here? Submit your profile.