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A W Bullen Feb 2023
was a virtue
gentle and benign,
she offered up her qualities

but no-one had the time..
A W Bullen Jan 2023
On
this crest
a learn of words

From the ruby
throated humming
burns a burst of brittle
somethings loved

as we remember
better times,
from vicious
days that were...

At the falling
of its maker,
promise ends

for the bravest
of our betting
is but pennies
in the fountain

take a moment
to attend the honour
promises deserve

then return into the light,
a brighter soul...
January
If we are not careful can collapse in on itself.
To some, in the darkened hemisphere, it can be like standing barefoot in a bucket of cold water staring down the bleak North wind, salted eyes, seeing nothing more than an accident of birth.

Divorce and suicide rates run high in this first of months.

Nothing, is always, as , always is nothing and we were born to feel something in between the birth and death of everything.
Sensorial, corporeal, our matter is a moment  to no-one  but our minds.

Be careful in/out there...

Mind how you go
A W Bullen Dec 2022
My trepid step
has long abandoned
carefree whips of youth,

Thus, gingerly I test
the bridge for traction,

A full beam darkness
buckles back
the harness of my shame

misleading
ever older bones
across this gaunt canal
fleshing the knuckle of the conversation that started with, "The bridge, by me is ****** with ice"
Caution is a boomerang, that, once thrown- may disappear for years- but it will return, and return hard-  
For me, it's in my early 50's- approaching a decking bridge, slick with ice, reaching into my pocket  and thinking "****!, where did that boomerang come from?"

I crossed the bridge- it was pathetic- thank the Lord and all his bearded chums, it was dark...
A W Bullen Dec 2022
Suddenly
December...


with a rueful
little smile,

swept the weeks
into a pile

of a year
gone by...
A W Bullen Nov 2022
They'll give me a page
present me a pen

but I'll draw my
own conclusions
A W Bullen Oct 2022
Leave
in peace


this gull-bone light,
to beechwood feasting
vapours,

And may it be
a paper ship,

our languages
of liberty
borne sea-ward
by the falling water

thoughts
to mean the World
for those who languish,
foamed in contemplation

bending
from their tree-top
forts to bid the fond
farewell
A W Bullen Oct 2022
I have
not forgotten

-you-

purring, from
the parching tree

Your unassuming
crooning wooed
the willows
of an older
England

earth-smoke

fumitory..

summer songs
of Solomon

A single sweet monotonony
dependable as harvest store

came summoning the daysleep
word delectable.
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