This is my vision of a certain cast of English village (not so much in springtime).

Winter Town

March winds stir listless eddies,

fluke in tired gusts over thin pools,

flare through fields of stubble

then flag, exhausted, sour and wheezing

from the blowing day;

coughing, rubbing arthritic fingers,

cold as a church bell sounds the hours.

Spring will be late this...

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Those huge white flakes of fish

And the mashed potato dish

Have stayed in my memory

For sixty years

I remember the potato, creamy soft

Had a seasoned, peppery waft

And the choice of sauces:

Egg or parsley

It must have been a whole side of cod

I remember my grandfather like a god

Slowly stood to serve the fish

Separating the flakes

The etched glass...

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improved version!

I read a poem

                about a dresser

                and all the memories it held.

I remembered

                one thing

                in a sideboard.

I remembered

                a long cone shape

                wrapped in cord

                containing something

                hard and dark brown, that smelled.

I never knew

...

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When they grow up they dress in a new life:

a family of new suits and shirts to wear.

And the ties are new too.

He strides out on his new catwalk

proudly wearing his new self,

blind to the day the cloth may unravel

or fade or lose its style.

What will clothe him then?

I shall not grace his shoulders again:

I am the coat he has outworn

in my pockets are his memories

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The landlord called this morning

Said that she could tell I just woke up. To call her back later.

The cold was different to me, this late morning
Hazy, paired with rain
Drizzled, Murky, Heavy air that swept through the knit of my hoodie.

The branches lay next to the garage in a consecutively non-organized fashion, taken back by hand a few times

 To the old burning pile ...

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"... any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in Mankinde; And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; It tolls for thee...

— John Donne, Meditation XVII.

Saint Christopher Bell

We seem to be collectors

of memories and junk,

piles of the stuff;

both kinds lean against damp walls

in self-support, waiting

for purpose,

finding little but ...

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“Jon!”

 He shouts at the top of his lungs

 I scurry

Awkwardly

Through soggy sand

Tripping over sea-softened

Splitting wooden posts

In my eagerness to see what’s happened

“What is it Dad?”

“What’s happened?!”

I stop.

Puffing and panting

Squinting

Against the sun

I see him

Sat on the sand

Looking flabbergasted

Pointing away 

Towards the ...

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It's a concentration of atoms, that in the air converse with one another.

And then those bits become molecules. 
They create my table.
My computer.
And in some ways, my ability to type and write and eat ramen at the last hour of the night.

And they make

That smokey woody herbal floating aroma that reminds me of the witchcraft shop down the street of where we used to live.

...

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Her slippers shuffle along
The carpet, with swirls of faded bronze. 
Wrinkled hands worn by casino youth, waltz 
Through the smell of hot leather,
Balancing china cups and saucers.
With eyes that sing the marble green
Of the Empress staircase, her face is the ghost
Of a lost love.

And I, with tiny toes that cannot yet tap
On the ballroom floor below, 
Eat jam sandwiches
On my Grandmot...

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Lost in thought I sought and sought in a jungle of memories, which with every passing second fades into the distance but struggles to disappear. I walk through the foyers of my mind- on each side open doors all except one – closed & unmarked. I edge towards it anxious and afraid, turn the lock but it will not budge. The memory of u is trapped behind a closed door. I bang and kick and shove and ki...

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My eyes fall on the calendar And my heart races… Just two more days… Two more days from the worst of so much and For so many, Not that anyone needs a calendar as a reminder … Our fear is our continuous reminder. As “The” day comes closer, the sadness in our hearts gets deeper… The pain we have torturously endured for a year gets heavier… An almost unbearable weight to carry, “God help us! Has it...

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i

Innocent

     he met a force

Untried

            it held him

... and wonder drained the world of substance

            re-arranged the pages of his book to give more radiant a reading.

The light of new possibilities

pressed down on time.

The girl sang to him "You can hear the boats go by". He

l...

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Much more than half my life ago

Some chance led us to this place;

Now, my heart is caught and held

By the peace of its earth and space.

Some while past, when first she left me

I could not make my soul adjust

But cached it safe within the plot

Beside her memory and her mortal dust.

And as the family aged and spread

My lonely tenancy grew content

Past spectres...

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I'm pretty sure that everyone

Knew the ponytail kid.

Had a ponytail kid.

Is what I mean.

The guy that was just...scratchy, and rough, and he needed to shave more. You know that guy?

Yeah.

You kind of have to wonder when you meet the ponytail kid, why he's like that.
With a grey hoodie that's kind of too big, and it has spraypaint haphazardly covering it.

O...

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I been sleeping under the ocean, 
drowning in emotion, 
mind empty and slowing, 
sound but a commotion 
too loud without meaning.

Time passes silent still 
all my words desert me 
when I lose my will.
Tired of climbing 
the same sodden hill.

It rains and it hails 
and the sun comes 
in and out of view. 
The smell is old but new, 
the memory evades 
but the pain, still 
cuts rig...

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I don't feel worthy of this earth.
It's a bright and happy day today. 
I feel a fraud amongst it all.
As kids and parents play. 
Sandcastles, colourful buckets and plastic spades, 
Happy laughter fills the air. 
Desperate darkness clouds it. 
There is no point, no joy, no end,
I am hollow and so void. 
I smile and wave and look the part,
Each photo frames the day. 
Behind the mask the c...

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Ew.

For the love of God

Just...

Change your sheets.

Take a shower,

You stink.

Your body is exuding more fumes than a nuclear plant.

And by God.

While we're on this trail of reconstructive surgery.

Toss out that shit personality.

Trashy anime and cartoons, no counting for taste.

Kid, if you put a rainbow filter over that drawing, I swear to God...

No wonder every...

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And just like that, you're gone,

The memories fade away, you're lost,

No matter the action , the consequences are the same.

The thought of you not being here,

The thought of missing you,

Those are concepts I can't wrap around my head.

With fear I live the upcoming days,

Questioning my own existence,

Questioning my own rebellion, I slowly understand what you meant.

Honest...

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Pushing and shoving on the dance floor

We must have looked a right sight

Ducking and diving next to the waves

Of distorted guitars and tribal like drums;

Our Hair blowing wild in the over ripe summer air

As we laughed at the singer

Stumbling at his words for a few seconds

Before carrying on, pushing each other

Up and down the dance-floor

Your hair was punked up, dye...

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The sky in front of me is pink, as I drive home‚

there will be a frost tonight.

Beneath it the brackened hills lie pinkly rust

And trees stand starkly laced in contrast

I see every distant twig defined, sharp against the pearlescent sky.

Not much later, I sit over tea and look west

to where the sky is left creamily gold.

Above, the darkling blue is split by a fading pink ...

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frankness sharp as needle

sugar revolving undeniable 

rhythm of memory 45, 33

black and blue and rare purple

take me back to when heaven

was simple, happening, not free

but not framed, turntable.

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If I had a picture of you

I’d keep it to myself

Held tightly against my heart

To feel closer to you

Our bond would be strong

Strong enough to make me feel safe

If only I had a picture of you.

If I had a picture of you

I’d sleep with it on my pillow

Hoping to bring sweet dreams

Of the days we shared long ago

The fun days, holidays and time spent together

Fee...

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I tend to not find things sacred

but rather memories

Things can burn up in a fire

but memories are your's forever

Like the first time I saw my son

when they laid him on my stomach

Like the look on my husband's face 

when he said "I do"

Like the look on my son's face

when he too said "I do" to his sweet wife

Like the time as a small child when my big brother

put me ...

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Nothing will ease this ache,
this pain, 
this blank space.
My heart lies torn, 
so worn.

Words don't help, 
my mind a blur,
my sleepless brain, 
my feelings of dismay.
All these things 
pull me under,
awaken my thunder.

Alone we wonder 
and wander
from one star to another
trying in vain 
to illuminate the way
but the pain won't go away
no matter 
how we pray.

It all comes...

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Down In The Hole

I was sixteen, they threw me down the hole,

I stood in darkness, breathing in the dust

while learning who I could and couldn’t trust

in this black new empire of worm and mole.

My dad said it was this life or the dole -

if our family was to earn a crust

then I would have to work until I bust

and sacrifice ambition, heart and soul.

Years of hardship f...

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He left 

He left behind his broken wife and his scared son

He left

He left us cold, all alone with no one 

He left

The vows, they meant nothing 

The promises, broken 

I just wish we meant something 

More than just empty words spoken 

I cried for days at a time 

My young son wiped every tear 

Leaving us was a crime 

And now, it's been 1 year 

An...

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