I can't forget
seeing your face,
on that old
Betamax tape.
You. Back then—
eyes like sin,
loose brown curls,
soft brown skin.
Like a film,
rewound to the start—
each and every frame
captured in my heart.
My fingertips on
your tight black dress;
as you leant toward me,
I felt your breath—
as you quietly
called my name.
What I was thinking?
I can't explain.
Was it your scent?
Was it your style?
The clothes you wore?
Or the way you smiled?
What I do have,
in my mind:
a beautiful image,
frozen in time.
Mar 31
Mar 31, 2026 at 12:34 PM UTC
We live,
in a state,
of mind,
of panic
A liquid state
That spills across time.
Some will soak;
Some will stain.
Some will stare wide eyed into a future;
some at the white lines behind.
They will watch,
as they join,
slipping silently
into time.
The past?
Will it be yours?
Marked, triumphantly by a star?
Dec 23, 2025
Dec 23, 2025 at 2:19 PM UTC
The villagers slept, beneath blankets of snow,
No sign of life but a faintest glow.
From a baker’s oven there shone that light —
A baker, baking late into the night.
Day after day at the oven spent,
The baker was tired, his back was bent.
For time was short, but his orders tall;
His heart was big, but his oven small.
You join the baker at the break of day,
The kings new assistant knocks at the door to say.....
Oct 21, 2025
Oct 21, 2025 at 2:13 AM UTC
From the bottom of a bottle in the captain's hand,
To the depths of the ocean in a foreign land.
A salty sea tale as old as time,
Woven together with old fishing line.
The wind was moderate, sometimes light,
The port was alive, a splendid sight.
The children all rushed into town,
Wearing polished boots and fancy gowns.
Old men proud in Sunday best,
Medals pinned upon their chests.
Mothers held babies in their arms,
Crosses held tightly in their palms.
The whole town gathered, one and all—
Some even climbed the harbour wall,
To witness the captain and his crew,
Setting sail for lands anew.
The crew weighed anchor and set her free;
The swell soon took them out to sea.
But past all this pomp and pageantry—
Not a soul would see what would come to be,
Only the widows all veiled in black,
Knew the ship would not come back.
Out of the harbour, she made her way—
Quick to tack and without delay.
To the untrained eye, all seemed well,
But where there's light, dark shadows dwell.
For six long months, no sight of land—
Not the journey the captain planned.
His maps and charts gave nought away,
A fate fast destined to come their way.
So in his cabin, the captain stayed,
His torment growing day by day.
Until one fateful night, the wind, it sang,
Calling the name of every man,
Whose souls lay restless on an ocean floor,
Dragged to the depths by a monstrous claw.
Dark shadows and shapes now filled the decks,
Seeking the forsaken soul that’s next.
Before the morn, the crew were gone,
Plucked from their beds, one by one.
Finally, the captain—lantern in hand—
Crawled from his cabin, a broken man.
He raised the light and surveyed the scene,
Only to be faced by the monstrous fiend.
Eye to eye—man and beast—
Gripped with fear, he fell to his knees.
The wind now whispered one final name,
The final poor soul the beast would claim.
He closed his eyes and grabbed the mast,
Whispered words, replaced by shattering glass.
The wind was moderate, sometimes light,
The port was alive, a splendid sight.
May 25, 2025
May 25, 2025 at 7:09 AM UTC
You, like silk cloth draped over life.
A perfect match for any occasion.
Me—an uncomfortable fit.
My pockets emptied.
All I am
are spare buttons
and loose change.
That drawer in the kitchen—
Where a tangle
of odds and sods.
A mismatched mixture
of nothings
with no connection,
exists.
But, should you stumble across me
on the off chance
that you might need me
in that moment—
Don’t hesitate.
Don’t think.
Slip on your reading spectacles.
Train your brightest lamp.
Try to find
where one part starts
and the part ends.
May 5, 2025
May 5, 2025 at 2:52 PM UTC
Age is but a number,
numbers we carry for life —
like heartbeats in a minute,
or scars from a surgeon’s knife.
Some numbers hold more value:
some count them on a chart;
others count time together,
or the hours they spend apart.
Time is so unforgiving,
each second a grain of sand;
slipping through our fingers,
slipping through our hands.
Apr 28, 2025
Apr 28, 2025 at 2:47 AM UTC
A silver pocket watch
sparkles in the sun.
Magpie, watches, waiting,
for its time to come.
Apr 23, 2025
Apr 23, 2025 at 12:08 AM UTC
How did we arrive here?
Two imposters sharing a bed,
One leading, the other led.
I used to savour those days together.
You remember? Those lazy,
wine-fuelled days.
Our love, under a microscope—
an organism, forever changing,
shifting, moving, never still.
We were not unique, though.
Like weathered rock, gradually ground down
over time, not noticing the change.
Oh, how we’ve changed. Now we dance
a nervous dance,
Our moves—once smooth—are
rigid and awkward. We bump and
**** against each other, not knowing where to stand.
We are strangers in a stranger land.
Apr 17, 2025
Apr 17, 2025 at 2:15 AM UTC
I sit under this tree.
Life is slow,
and so
it should be,
in the face of nature's show.
I sit and listen closely—
I'm sure I can hear her grow.
So for her,
her age is not a number;
her rings are all that count,
as are the secrets kept within her,
of all she has seen below—
like those who have been kept waiting
by the loves that never show.
Apr 8, 2025
Apr 8, 2025 at 10:21 AM UTC
The old oak tree.
Regal, she stands watching all.
Beneath all is small.
Apr 2, 2025
Apr 2, 2025 at 1:42 PM UTC