Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
3d · 385
Mallard discourse
Before the storm, the river had all but given up,
the guttural roar of wind and deluge
rattled all souls, except her
and in the aftermath she swelled
and bore delicious weight again
and my eye-contact
with the pageantry of the green headed drake
told all the muddy truths:
to underestimate is to lose
5d · 43
Betray
Iscariot behaviours mean
this never temple body
sometimes struggles to hide
the weather roll
that the eager might hail
pathetic fallacy
with smug misrecognition

Listen to the twitch and thud
as you get older, sure,
but hold off on fearing the worst

The hearse always takes a while
for those who hear its stately glide
daily

#age #health #anxiety #peace #steady
6d · 40
Small boats
It felt cold again today
as I scraped a little ice on the car
for the daily journey

my fingers ached a touch as winter spoke,
but no brine soaked my skin to crack,
no frozen gun barrel bullied my neck,
forced my unready body
to a too small boat,
crammed where fears of all ages merged,
and hope drowned

It felt cold again today
Nov 21 · 88
Leaving
We sat and sounded beliefs
as the leaves chose to dance
with an almost panic
as if the chance wouldn’t come again
and the floor would be cleared

Clarity, for now, only coming
from this brittle winter light
that in high contrast picks out sad details
that murky days hide better

I will cry, I guess, tomorrow
or another day that would’ve been ours
the hours will let me know
I’m sure
Nov 20 · 74
Fiat beat
Rattle the cassette
with the biro etched “Car Mix”
grab the keys from mum’s bag
“Fill up what you use!”
“…Ok, can I have a fiver then?”
scuff to the car in unsuitable boots
slump in, adjust mirror, checking stupid fringe
which then existed
snap in the tape so the first bars
of G-Funk, grunge or B*Witched pulse
then it’s off to pick up
shotgun
Nov 17 · 232
Fug
Fug
autumn drinks heavily
slides into winter black
singing old songs in the dark
of loss and lack
and imperfect memory

these months weigh more:
grit under the eyelid
cold **** in the soul weight
that scratches and suffocates

but the coals will glow
and windows steam the same,
inside from time to time
and safe
Nov 14 · 131
Fall lies
The lies that autumn tells
it hides in these leaves,
like a sleight of branch
you’ll be misdirected
from the dun, dying land
as you revel in amber and gold
falsehoods
Nov 14 · 107
Grocery
With leaves fireworking
their last defiant blaze
against grey skies and the mud,
once again I forget to remember

the muted tannoy announces silence
for customers and staff
and the surreal descends
among the tins of peas and carrots

where the absence of the normal clatter
suddenly roars, catches in my throat,
the plaintive, Sally Army bugler
scoring the sadness in these aisles,
these isles

with two minutes passed,
the cacophony of the tide
of plant based diets
and too early Stollen returns
to wash over, to forget
Nov 14 · 202
Over and under
Off the daily cuff
blood pressure rises,
no real surprise
when this number over that
seems to dictate it all

For it to fall to a level
where there is no dread
of a sudden clutched chest
or brain wildfire
requires time for self care,

And though there’s the rub,
your work will never love you back,
so feel no guilt stepping away
before you crack
Nov 10 · 226
Climes
Time ticks down as we gouge,
burn, eat and smear this planet,
all the while avoiding eye-contact
as we line our graves with cash
for a soft and pointless landing

Standing knee-deep already
on a rented doorstep
the next in line rightfully curse us
as the fat get fatter, fit to burst,
but never fit for purpose
Nov 6 · 51
Kite King
The kite arrives and the others scatter:
a chatter of malignant magpies,
muscle bound gulls,
fat, idiot pigeons
and scheming, knifing jackdaws

Even together, they can’t thwart
the obsidian eye,
the span and solid beat of russet wings,
the kingpin

That tattered *******
they all fight over
is his

#redkite #forthebirds #life #living #humanity
Nov 5 · 374
This much
Dusk inside, sometimes

Sometimes out

A heart shout, above cloud thrill

Given infinite patience

Standing still, still, still
Nov 2 · 174
Drawn in
The slapping second hand wakes
to the mute, orange-dark room
of a life again crepuscular,

commutes before dawn, after dusk
and the yearn for vitamin D
become the norm

in the near distance
supermarket music tickles
glitter and tinsel

the bright idiocy of Yuletide
before the treacle dark inside
Oct 25 · 202
Nice bright colours
Eyes snap like Polaroid:
that memory is captured
flat
so superficially it holds truths

but look more carefully at those colours
and the tunes they sing,
they make you think
something

something close to fingertips
on glossed pages
where other people's lives live
and mean little

but this is yours, ours,
and I’m holding the hours
holding on and shaking
Oct 24 · 196
Lepidopterist
October butterflies
game against blue skies,
wind that gusts indifferent

fading buddleia’s
purple sashes
give one last hurrah
to the peacock, admiral,
as the lowering sun
sees through wings that were

#autumn #fall #october #butterflies #turnturnturn
Oct 23 · 36
Old, whys
I’m invincible, unstoppable

until I stub my toe
and come a cropper
and the earth below me shifts
and sits on my chest with a manic grin

The gasp for breath
like a feeble request for one more chance,
******* properly in a bunch
as all avenues close

These are the swings and roundabouts,
the reciprocal motions
that see rise and fall as one

decades in you’d think it’d all make sense
but this viscous, thick emotion
is as sticky as always
Oct 22 · 320
Not anything
I think
I think in buds
that root
and sometimes
blossom with you

but don’t get cute about it
Oct 17 · 142
Evening
Like pitch dark chocolate
Sunday nights are fi-i-ne

But always leave you wishing
For less bitterness
Oct 17 · 258
Together apart
I rest in the quiet thoughts
that might involve tired arms
and unadorned hearts and faces

to fantasise boredom with you
is a new low/high to replace
my easy crippling everyday nowt

I currently know that
to fall asleep with you
unwashed and noisy tired
is all I think I need
Oct 17 · 86
Loose
A life played on taut strings,
high-pitched and staccato
to breathlessness,
a break-necked tempo
that often feigns chest pains
and the vice hand we 3AM anticipate

Find a way to twist the machine head,
hear the cartoon sound effect
of boinging down
so your strum sounds loose,
slow, forgotten,
truth
Oct 15 · 232
Motherf
For my mother friends:
my good gosh you are amazing.

Kids in general spew and hurl,
flail utter ******* at you
and forget the next day

boys stink,
think in straight lines ‘til they don’t,
girls twist all sorts of hate
and then hug your very soul

you are the world to them
forgoing all others
to be kicked and kissed equally

which is why you have my envy x
Oct 15 · 262
Prunus domestica
Bullace
hedge haematoma
blue-black against the fading,
once young green,
bruising for sharp winter thoughts,
clean frost lines,
untouched snow-blank focus

but before, to swell and drop
in the last pale suns,
feed the field mouse, rabbit
and endure the muds
Oct 15 · 220
Très fatigué
The answer “Ok, just tired.”,
like a reflex action,
as knee-**** as the daft decisions,
naïve, fear driven, not yours,
that put you here

In that “tired”, a million branched to’s
trigger a billion possible do’s
flowing like black sand
while you run on fumes
trying to clear
just
one
space

No one wins
digging holes on the beach
while the ignorant tide comes in
Oct 10 · 222
Not alone
Sometimes you just have to rattle
outside
like an over excited child
or pup with energy to spare

You’ll feel the breeze there
and smell leaf and soil
all seasons

Though the language changes
with the days
the message is consistent:
stay
Oct 10 · 49
Wettening
This is where the wet will be
when my wellies come out of hibernation
(though, technically, it’s aestivation,
every day’s a school day)

when someday soon, this loop,
this recuperative walk
will weigh heavy on my feet
with the mud of thought
and of the mud of actual mud

til then I’ll wend, mostly light footed
with the rattle of mowers
and threat-cackle of magpies
to score me
and though not Oscar worthy
the kite-screech soundtrack serves
Oct 10 · 349
Voix humaine
A cello’s open C
nearly derailed me.
Cerys snuck it in,
slow Sundaying,
nearly made me stop the car
and howl
as the bow drew on my guts
like blissful punishment,
the sullen throb
calling human
Oct 9 · 68
Bake
Saturday afternoon with borrowed sun
that we’ll miss another day

I commit to develop my cooking
by using stock
which seems to be the unspoken gap
between stuff that tastes OK
and stuff that tastes ace

they should really tell us that
Oct 8 · 231
Baggage
I would scorch the end of the cork
and score bags under my eyes
if the black of my tired spleen
was not already weighing

Like the luggage of the ******
packed in haste, always in haste
so that essentials are oft forgot
like health, or peace, or dignity

As it is, the cork stays unburnt,
but out of the bottle
as a gentle “**** the lot of you.”
Oct 8 · 115
Memorium
Mist chose to linger a while,
though mild air belied October.

Overwhelmed by birdsong,
loud against the abstract silence
of these adolescent sentinels,
stood like arboretum trees
filled with the gravitas
of no age, no age at all.

The year passed as always
with them growing taller,
bolder, a little more aware
of wisdom’s cost
and the one they lost.
Oct 8 · 208
Fellows
It’s not really difficult:
the golden rule,
walking in others’ shoes,
giving two ***** about
the lives of others.
It’s right there.
Has been since the days
of squatting in caves
planning mammoth takedowns

But the clowns have weaponised caring
to become a choice.

It’s not. Raise your voice.
Oct 7 · 228
Worded well
We can’t blame words
for showing us truths
that make us cry
or selling us lies
that make us fall in love so hard
the north wind knocks from us

We can’t praise words
for revealing paradise
allowing us to stroll there
quiet, some days,
and know better

We can only intone the syllables,
wrestle syntax to some semblance
of meaning
for the clicks, croons and chatter
we utter, or fix in lines
for others to know us
Oct 3 · 255
Witching
A full throated howl
as the dark returns
keening as witch or warlock
at their organised religions
their doctrines and strictures

I’ll gather the hemlock
and the red cap
to lace their tea and platitudes,
their pious attitudes
of bell ringing shame

in my mind’s eye
the rictus grin that takes them
is sweet as autumn fruit
Oct 3 · 288
Hermit
This hikikomori soul
seeking to curl up
in silent conversation with a duvet
and two fat pillows
as the petulant winds blow
arguments
Oct 2 · 169
Rain down
I don’t know how
but I’d forgotten days
when rain falls forever
and in every way

so you sit and you look
and you look and you sit
and your mind asks some questions
you’d often forget
and you twiddle and bicker
and hover and thrum
and you start ten endeavours
with no solid outcome

and then night comes and rescues
as pretence can be dropped
and you put on pyjamas
and stop
Oct 2 · 60
Bro
Bro
Hey guys!
Remember not to **** or **** anyone.
I know modern life is hard
with, like, credit cards and stuff
but just because you can do
something unutterably terrible
doesn’t mean you should
Ok?

And yeah, we don’t have a monopoly
on being shitbergs
In the general pissy sea of life
but statistically, with numbers and stuff,
we ****

So, y’know, try not to.
See how that feels.
Oct 1 · 209
Mellow
An afterglow read
in leaves fallen
as long shadows, earlier than before,
stretch tales of easy warmth
to breaking

We are here

Toe roots touching soil
that’s gathering in
at the sharp memories
of ****** frosts

Across the rec
the final shouts of bike rides
and punted ***** are heard
to defy the dry prickle of central heat
and the long, magic dark
Oct 1 · 66
One foot in front
We stay in the meat grinder
as kids are mostly good

we give our time to causes
that no other buggers would

we shoulder the weight
as our colleagues keep us up

we try to raise a thousand toasts
with nothing in our cup

we don’t do it for league tables
or targets plucked to reach

or for managers who do their jobs
as they do not/cannot teach

we do it as it’s in us
it is simply who we are

and we’ll do it til indifference
goes just one
                      step
                             too
                                  far
Sep 30 · 203
Swim
For a moment,
a minute maybe,
an hour,
my head went under

it wasn’t thrashing gasps
or clawing to froth the surface,
just a steady,
non-negotiable weight
that spoke to my ankles
of depths

I tried to keep my eyes up
following the lipped bubble trail
to the howling truth above
but when my head dropped
the blue belows almost soothed

finally, before lungs gave,
tired fingers relented,
worried the knots,
freed the old strokes loose
Sep 26 · 88
Dread locked
There aren’t many jobs
where Sunday night
cold grips your guts
and has you palpitate

while midwives are called
and antiques are roadshowed
every inch of will is bent up
in figuring the impossible

if we all know how leading horses to water ends
then can we not give the stable hands a break?

As I watch my own digits shake,
stable hands seems like a joke
no one lets me in on
Sep 26 · 350
Ugh
Ugh
Aghast in the AM
as my friend from youth ago
reminded me of what I know,
and know I’d forgotten

my impulse is to call all:
ragtag and happy,
still on the
line

them good girls gonna go bad
hey Jonny?

snug tired is enough for now
Sep 25 · 1.0k
Anxiety
We don’t often visit
the pit of our stomachs
but when we do
things just aren’t good
Sep 24 · 59
Eejits
Panic buuyyyyy
paniiic buyyyyyy
go on!

Then none of us
worth any of us
will get anywhere

douches
Sep 24 · 63
Detention
We try to sink into the crepuscular
as behind, another working week
picks us out of its teeth

we throw a couple of weaves
into the route to the sofa
for a headful of peace, maybe

though home has deaf ears too,
we love them
and through years of gaining favour
we’ll keep bruised hearts open there

beyond, you’ll see each aortal latch fixed,
each ventricular bolt slid
and each arterial snib
locked

if sweat and tears are the currency
you’d better ****** earn it
Sep 19 · 613
Poets united
Calling all ears
all guts and sneers
every daft-deft writer who would be
poet

Write your soul, your boots
your fight, your fears,
your misbegotten loves
tucked behind your ears

Roll with punches,
belch and rattle at your stars
as they are truly indifferent
gaseous, asinine orbs

Pull rank on the nothing
my lovely, living friends
as your truth is beginnings and ends
and I love you

#poet #writer #write #love
Sep 19 · 111
Streetfighter
Sunday morning
sluggish streets blink
and whisper to themselves
that there was sun, yesterday

the jagged methadone
of a bad night’s sleep
giving all the weight
none of the peace

technicolour memories
seem to be made false
by this overcast sky
so happiness lies

in the old days
a cigarette and a cup of coffee
would smooth edges,
in the good old days
Sep 17 · 326
Spruced
Toward the end of it all
my knackered earth beds
sit dishevelled
like a mother’s rushed haircut

tufts of the next growth
brace for another brown-grey winter
while the last redcurrants hide,
blood dark rubies
tucked in dying leaves of neighbour bushes

in the middle, the supermarket spruce
of three years ago
waits its turn
growing done in the throng of all
while the sun played favourites

soon, in the cat pad darks
the ground will be given back to rule,
cold, empty and silent
Sep 16 · 315
Work/Life
Sometimes tears
don’t come from grief
or sudden pain,
from moments moved
by others’ stories
real or sharply imagined

Sometimes it’s just the steady
incessant
tap tap tap
of life that just won’t pause
for any cause or reason
for any chance of respite

We’ll often deny those tears
as weak
but listen as they speak
or they will never, ever stop
Sep 13 · 29
Monday rules
No poetry on Mondays
sorry
thems the rules
not even a half rhyme
a poignant metaphor
a little alliteration
or assonance

******
Sep 12 · 215
Hedgerow
My blackberry love
you stain fingertips, lips and tongue
bittersweet purple
grown on a summer of promise
to end by watching the day
retreat past equinox
feels like loss
and though the longer night has virtues
there are dangers too
behind the fairy lights
and dazzled trick or treat
the immutable cold waits
Sep 12 · 71
Grand slam
Just one iota
of that teenaged brio,
utterly fearless in the way
slim life allows,
would power our souls for
whole years

fears, as they come,
are whispered on sharp minutes,
on slow hour memories,
on broken days, lost
in an oubliette
desperate for a single glimmer

youth can be reckless
self-sabotaged and trite
but by god,
there are lessons in the might of it
in spite of it
if we stop,
look
and listen

#emmaraducanu #youth #joy #riskreward #thrills #liveloud #rageagainstthedyingofthelight
Next page