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He stayed in beautiful isolation

For so long

He became a memory

A shadow on the wall

A stain on the carpet


When they sipped red wine

They remembered him

In the taste upon their lips

In the pause

Between the small talk


The chair remained empty

The corner a little darker

The mirror over the bar

Cast no reflection

Of him


Absorbed into the metadata

A pixel and a byte

The warble of dodgy Wi-Fi

His heartbeat faint

As a ghost whisper


The world moved on

While the poet indulged

In screen time

And allowed his muse

To drift away

day 18forgotten artnapowrimo2018off promptonlineperformancepoetryreplacementzoom

◄ Ye Tale Of Brave Sir Moppalot

fly ►


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Ian Whiteley

Tue 19th May 2020 17:49

Graham - yes - we're being hosted by the venue that we use - they are an arts centre and have a full paid up version 😃

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Graham Sherwood

Tue 19th May 2020 17:13

Make sure you have a paid up account or it cuts out after 40 minutes I’ve heard.

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Ian Whiteley

Tue 19th May 2020 16:48

good luck with it Greg - our event on Thursday has 27 open mic readers, 9 on the reserve list and over 200 'interested' we could be testing the 100 Zoom limit 😃

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Greg Freeman

Tue 19th May 2020 16:43

I don't believe it will, Ian. Zoom is lot better than nothing, but also nothing like the real thing. We all want to stand up there and project, and hear proper applause. Well done for hosting the Wigan night on Zoom - I will be trying out that experience down here in Woking next week.

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Ian Whiteley

Tue 19th May 2020 16:14

Thanks for the kind comments lads.
Although I'm hosting the WOL Wigan zoom night and have been guest on a few more - I'm trying not to make it too much of a habit. I'm sure, like me, you remember when football went onto the TV big time (in my case Rugby League) and a lot of people never went back to the live experience - with falling attendances.
I sincerely hope that doesn't happen to poetry gigs - but I have my doubts 😞

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Greg Freeman

Tue 19th May 2020 15:55

First proper Zoom poem I've seen, Ian. Good one.


Mon 18th May 2020 17:41

A beautiful one Ian, I especially felt the last stanza, countless muses allowed to drift away like seaweed in the open sea.

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