All entries for October 2008

October 29, 2008

As it Became

As it Became

As a scored silver bulb

Proud and Pitted

Run through with cracks

All traumas depleted

More chaste than chilled.

Still, and yet somehow smooth –


As a sapling, leaking white

Secreting its alabaster tears.

Sepulchral in its frailty

Damaged and damned.

Weeping, and yet somehow futile –

Willingly abandoned to the blaze

Flaccid and somehow wasted –


As the browning straw

As the wilting grass

As the frothing suffocating river

Flowing fetid,

Stagnant and sluggish.

And yet somehow clear –


As the soot-black plumes

Fraught with filth,

Wings snapped back

Content with contempt

That gloating gaze

Eyes cruel and calid

Set deep, surveying all

Relishing the remains.


Why doesn’t she stop?

Legs buckled beneath her,

Feet splayed out, unnatural

Reaping the repellent

Straining to succeed

Never stopping.

And yet –

Why should she?

October 22, 2008

Damn the Consequences

You know what? It's 5 am. I'm getting up and damn the consequences.

Maybe the lake will provide some sort of inspiration for the dreaded walking poem.

Not happy with my square metre poem either, it's just stupid.

Mine, I mean.

Haiku among the holly

Haiku among the holly

Does it mean anything? Maybe.

If you can't read it -

Life in Limerence

Spiked green, dull within. Without

Waxing Lyrical.

October 21, 2008

A Dash of Pretention

A few poems I've written since coming to Warwick. True, they all tell some kind of story but there isn't much in the way of deeper meaning. I'll work on that. Please tell me what you think.

Winter Ashes

Embers of a fiery passion,

Extinguished by the cold of her eyes,

A look from those orbs leaves him ashen,

Feeding his mind with sweet lies.


A change,

The air seems different; fluid,

A delight to float upon.

A change,

The clouds quiver; nervous,

A roiling tempest swells.

A change,

The heavens darken; waiting,

A torrent bides its time.

One last change,

The storm unleashed; screams,

The world is layed to rest.


There is nothing.

Now I look to my right.

There is nothing.

Onwards then, trudging into the distance.

Night falls,

It makes no difference.

Sun rises,

There is nothing.

I come across a lake.

A body, bloated, afloat.

A full meal. For once.

Bile amidst the mud.

Sour Dust

Sunlight on a forgotten box,

Undisturbed for years.

A man climbs up, afraid, alone.

To put aside his fears.

He breathes in deep,

He tastes the air,

His asthma waits,

Dust in his hair.

A rodent stirs.

The dust-clouds rise.

The man observes,

Says his good-byes.


A blog? You're one of those people? Apparently.


Something I've been surprised by is the shear number of fantasy readers out there on the CW course or just English in general. Strange. I usually find it difficult to find such like-minded people as bringing up fantasy in intelligent company is akin to smashing your head into the table, it kills the conversation and then there is the judging...

I'll be putting up some of my poetry soonish; as in when I build up the confidence to do so, poetry is not my forte. There isn't enough tragedy in my life to make a decent poem, they survive on the beauty of the words themselves and the rhythm, but they don't mean a thing.

Some of my favourite authors: Trudi Canavan, Kelley Armstrong, Philip Pullman, Ian Irvine, Garth Nix, William Nicholson, Cate Tiernan, Kim Harrison, Robert Jordan, Iain M Banks, Philip Reeve.

October 2008

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