Soldiers stare in poets' guise, shout bloody words at careless skies. Faces bowed are steeped in grief, and turn away from warrior and thief. Art ensnared in martial rule, followed by bloodlust thirsty fools. Teachers caught are sold and bought, preach manifestoes to the worth of naught. Mourning not another day, these people force my … Continue reading Out of the Ecliptic
Some time later, when the street vendors had packed away their plastic crosses and crown of thorn hats, a small group of young people gathered under His cross and began to sing. It was a sad song, but no one looked as if they were sad at all. This continued for some time, then they … Continue reading He is alive.
Sing to me no more. Talk not of love, save me the trouble, of trying again. Just leave me, to my books, my pictures, and my sad, lost lonely looks. No! Please no more. Not your anguish, spare me your trouble, your crying and pain. … Continue reading An escape.
I wrote "Statue" back in nineteen seventy something, it's one of the few pieces that I don't have a date for. I was an angst-ridden teenager trying to come up with a theory, no, a working model of the universe; how it worked, where I fitted in, why I must fit in, why girls didn’t … Continue reading Statue.
I posted a version of this back in January this year (2022) where I mused that I seemed to remember that I'd actually written more of it but couldn't find the extra pages. Well, lucky you because I found them, three more "verses". The original threat was here: (Poetry again…). The first version is here: … Continue reading Son of The Legend of KARCHAN, part two, Rides Again!
I threatened to post this a while back, (Poetry again… February 2021) well, here it is… All the way from 1977, I present to you, The Legend of KARCHAN. 23/10/1977 is helpfully typed at the top of the page, any other help is sadly lacking. I wanted to write something, anything I think, and make … Continue reading The Legend of KARCHAN
Here's a little ditty from January 1979, well, finished in January 1979 I've helpfully typed at the top of the page. I was in lust with a girl called Carol as I recall, I'd met Carol in 1977 and she'd had an effect on me, but I didn't have the balls to even try to … Continue reading If my words could really touch you.
In the 1970s, when I was younger, so much younger than today, I wrote poetry. Some of it was short and sweet, some of it was lengthy, ponderous, and superciliously pretentious. In fact, most of it seemed to lean towards the pretentious. I typed out my musings on a typewriter, a portable typewriter. I've trawled … Continue reading Poetry again…
Come this September I’ll have travelled sixty times around the sun, seemingly endlessly looping around the star as it in turn circumnavigates the galaxy which is itself wheeling through space on its own course. It’s enough to make you giddy. It is true though that the older you get the more you do realise that … Continue reading Let’s talk poetry