All 8 entries tagged Poetry

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May 13, 2010


An experiment in Williams' variable foot - the format is key:


January 11, 2010


Poem about cyanide fishing in the Philippines. In imitation of Ted Hughes, the scumbag.


Her shadow fell upon the reef. Drifting

Deep, into the cold. Dragged down the long

Smooth net to lie,

                         Asleep, among the fishes.


The seaweed hides the toxic flecks, aglitter

In the moon-lit night. The diver rests upon

The rock to check her gauge and slow her breath.


She tells herself it will be quick.


No screams to claw at her young soul.


She tells herself to set the snare,

And draw them from their silent home.


Their bodies gleam upon the shore.

Their gliding oils coat her hands.

She strips them of their sheathes of skin,

                                                               And draws a line from head to fin.


A swell is formed, of stacks and bones

Sharp-cut-spines gouged from their flesh.

Their eyes are split before the end, piled high,

                                                                        In record time.


She chokes and sputters on her tears

She wipes her knife on bloody rags.

Her cuts and stings are cleaned in salt,

                                                            And left to dry.


She throws a match upon the heap

And warms her heart, next to the blaze.

March 03, 2009


Not happy with how this turned out.


A sweet young girl, thought pure, but shy

Perhaps unwilling to share her heart.

Timid with a smile that made him cry

Eager, it seemed, to play her part.

Their tale one of constant woe

Their torments clear right from the start.

The boy was drawn to that inner glow

It made him pause – he felt complete

Heart fluttering as it brought him low.

It came to nothing but defeat

The boy turned man was broken down

Found and beaten by girl so sweet.

And now he staggers, his spirit shot

Both children lost, since she forgot.

January 22, 2009

It doesn't matter anymore.

Some Terza Rimas that I omitted a while back because of messy emotions but - well, it just doesn't matter anymore.

Terza Rima Sonnets

That I might think, of where you rest

But turn my mind in echoed mirth

My will bent low, my sins confessed

A dizzy search for my self worth.

Her laughter; clear, sings through the air

Fogging my head as I kiss the earth,

I wonder still if she sees me there

Or whether her eyes tinge in regret,

Feeling my hopes lost in despair.

Knowing it better to forget

To leave me be, in bitter shroud

Vowing that I’ll win her yet.

And then I look into her eyes,

Her hair shot through with purple dyes

And forgiveness wells up in me,

I know she doesn’t mean to wrest

My heart and head in unity,

No, not her fault, to be so blessed,

But still, there’s screaming in my head,

That voice denying I’m obsessed,

Left to waste away and dread

That anguished sorrow in my heart.

The poison in my brain that spread

Through crevice, crack and every part,

Left alone to fester there

With no intention to depart.

Snap back, the feelings that arise,

As I look into your eyes,

That gaze which made me die inside,

Is now my secret source of pride

November 11, 2008


An untitled pantoum. I think I put it in my portfolio. I think. Everything from those hours seems like a blur of coffee and hysterical laughter. A disturbing time.


I stumble, diseased and twice distressed

A desperate need to feel

Alone, my voice released, undressed,

I'm fumbling in the black.


A desperate need to feel

Alive, my hands numb and burning

I'm fumbling in the black

Always falling, twisting, yearning.


Alive, my hands numb and burning

Hot through cold with tinny wails

Always falling, twisting, yearning

And all through it my face pales.


Hot through cold with tinny wails

And all through it my face pales

Sallow beneath the traitor's plight

Our star prevails, our shining night.

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

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.

August 2022

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