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Category Archives: Poetry

Empty armchairs

They face each other with a deathly calm,
Two old chairs in the dark with florals frayed.
Spindle held leaves clawed climb o’er each arm,
Thread-broken petals ripped raw and decayed.

One seat depressed with rests aged down but clear;
Silhouette of a soul, sad and alone.
The other is pristine, there’s no mark here;
The ghost of the man that I’ve never known.

Sun shoots through windows shored thickly with dust
Searing limp cloth as it fires from outside,
Splintering off panes imprisoned in rust
But shines off the letter and badge on the side.

A lifetime after he left his armchair
His wife’s not alone, for he is still there.

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Posted by on February 21, 2012 in Creative Writing, Poetry

 

Wife knows best

An experimental triolet. ‘Tis a weird form of poetry – the first, fourth and seventh lines have to be the same, as does the second and last. The rhyming structure is ABaAabAB. Hard to write.

“The belt never fits?” Well!
My wife “knows best”?
The silly woman can’t tell.
“The belt? Never! Fits well!”
But no matter how much I yell
Or swell my chest,
The belt never fits well….
My wife knows best.

 
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Posted by on February 20, 2012 in Creative Writing, Poetry

 

Unbreakable?

The rock stands.

Deep fissures line the surface
But it remains unbreakable.

Thick moss cloaks it,
Shroading the harsh outside
In an unassuming,
Pleasant mask.

The rains come.
From clouds formed elsewhere
Droplets fall,
Crashing against the stony sides.

Most are absorbed by the mossy shroud
But some find refuge in the cracks
And seep through.
The rock remains unbreakable.

Droplets become a stream,
A relentless downpour
Tearing the moss
From its anchor,
Exposing the harsh face
Of the naked stone.

The rains swell
But the lone droplets are no more,
Enduring together
As a single body of water,
Penetrating the cracks
From surface to core.

The weather is cold,
Harsh.
Many weeks have passed.
The swelling water now finds
Harmony from kindred minds.
And in the rally call of the far-off breeze
The droplets, as one,
Begin to freeze.
The ice creeps and,
With common might,
Exposes the depths to
The all-seeing light.

The rock
Breaks.

 
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Posted by on February 7, 2012 in Creative Writing, Poetry

 

Paper appreciation

Smooth and white,
Pure.
‘Tis a wondrous thing,
This A4 sheet.

The smell of a new work.
Creativity; wondrous thoughts.
Ink meets page
And page offers escape
From daily trappings.

Word on word,
A life comes into being.
Stretching, reaching, touching,
Connecting.

The scraping of the silv- Ah!
A papercut?

You piece of shit.

 
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Posted by on February 2, 2012 in Creative Writing, Poetry

 

Guilty pleasure

Why must you upset me?
I only wished to spend a few moments with you.
You’ve been hiding away for so long.
I brought you out,
Thought you’d like some air
And to be a part of something better.
More worthwhile.

I feel a confusing guilt as I strip you down.
You make me weep
As I look upon your unwrapped self.
My eyes sting,
Either with guilt or some greater force
I cannot tell.

But you must stand fast
For it will be worth it, I promise you.
You’ve been destined for this,
And I’ve been craving it all day.

Get in my bolognese,
Little onion.

 
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Posted by on February 1, 2012 in Creative Writing, Poetry

 

Forever alone

I’m going to write on the merits of friends.
Of the conversations we have,
Of the comfort they offer,
And how they supply no end
Of entertainment.
Or, come to think of it,
Hurt,
Misery,
Pain and let downs.
On second thoughts, I won’t bother.

 
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Posted by on February 1, 2012 in Creative Writing, Poetry

 

Apology to Hula Hoop packet

Well look at you.

Lying in front of me, empty.

You look quite hopeless, little Hula Hoop packet.You look quite blue,
And not just because of your delectable salt & vinegar flavour.
Did I upset you?
I’m sorry.

I didn’t mean to ravage you so quickly…
So viciously.
But your starchy little treats were just too much to resist.

Perhaps you can find some pleasure in the pain I suffered,
As a result of eating too many of your
Salty
Vinegary offspring.
My lips are cracked.

Forgive me,
Little Hula Hoop packet.

 
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Posted by on January 19, 2012 in Creative Writing, Poetry

 

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