british poetry (Remove filter)
And why?
And why are you still in my head?
In my chest,
In my soul?
Engulfed by disdain, disgust and love.
And I am so lone.
In the middle of Oxford Street crowds
I want your advice that never helped
I want your forehead kisses that I rejected.
Longing for you on dark silent nights.
To debate: am I ever truly alone?
Or does your phantomlike presence ignite and guide...
Tuesday 16th November 2021 10:41 pm
On the dispersal of water
It’s 1:30 am.
He takes me away from the others unpacking,
opens the front door to the first night
in our first home and squirts WD-40
over both hinges, explains
WD is water dispersal,
NASA concocted this stuff
to keep fields of rockets
from turning orange, then burnt umber.
He heard this on his pocket radio
cycling along blustery North London roads
...Tuesday 5th June 2012 8:54 pm
Recent Comments
Pragya Pal on Why not
1 hour ago
TobaniNataiella on Nothing Has Changed
4 hours ago
Hugh on Pensioners suffer a death sentence !!!
6 hours ago
Marla Joy on Gracefully
8 hours ago
Marla Joy on The Doughnut She Couldn't Eat
8 hours ago
Marla Joy on K. Lynn
8 hours ago
Marla Joy on Frank Pasciuti, Ph.D.
9 hours ago
Marla Joy on Intruder
9 hours ago
Beatrice on Why not
10 hours ago
Marla Joy on Admonitions for an emerging poet
10 hours ago