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John Edward Smallshaw
Poems
May 2016
Yellow brick roads
she is the sand that supports me.
I think constantly about what constancy can be and whether or how it affects me.
Family is the one certainty in a
faith that can be hit or miss.
This is the tidal reach and
she is the beach I rely on
the reason I go on
the rock that never moves.
The bridge between two cities.
We can fly across the chasms to the ends of acceleration.
In the instant of recognition
if self can be recognised
I am cognisant of my faults.
I'm not sure if perfection is attainable or winnable,
nor sure if I'm capable,
but
I'll cross that bridge
when I come to it.
Written by
John Edward Smallshaw
68/Here and now
(68/Here and now)
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Keith Wilson
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