This box, this blockThese four walls trapping my fingersAround this penThis paper, dull and blankThis space between ink and pageThis cage: my imaginationThis voice: a whisper, mumbling ideasThe knowledge behind barsThis prison I feel but cannot expressThis ache in need of reliefThis scream subdued by preoccupied handsThis stage of in-betweenThis no-man’s-land I’m inThis wish toContinue reading “Writer’s Block”
Tag Archives: Poem
The Bird In The Tree
I came to a stop near a bird in a tree.She was pecking the bark for a bug.I called her Estelle, God only knows whyFor she’ll have the same fate as her slug. I arrived at the gate where a pig snorted at me.He was rolling in a splash of mud.Just when a lonely tearContinue reading “The Bird In The Tree”
I’m Too Tired
I’m too tired to write a poem.My eyelids are sinkers fixed to a linetossed into a subconscious sea where I’ll hook the remnant of lastnight’s dream. I was in a maze with theship’s lull and everyone I’d ever loved wasn’t there. A Ferris wheel flung meoverboard into the bottomless deep ofwaking up to the smellContinue reading “I’m Too Tired”
There’s Always A But
There was a crack in the earth just thenwhen you opened your lipsto tell me the truth for once. You’ve been hiding behind someoneI recognize, but don’t recall meeting.A dusty cranium: cobwebs need sweeping. I decompress with ice clinking in a glassof wine on my knee,making kaleidoscope eyes at the ants crawling behind the greenery.SomethingContinue reading “There’s Always A But”
The Golden Hour
The day is on its back, but not quite asleep just yet.A silk net catches the last raysAs an eight-legged ick nears its winged prisonerAnd beaks above chatter their goodbyes for now.A crisp air hugs the horizon closerAs the sun’s hair falls gently goldenOn her rocky shoulders, preparing for hypnosis. A slither of moon escapesContinue reading “The Golden Hour”
If You’ve Got A Coin
If you’ve got a coin you might carelesslytoss it in the cup holder without a cupto give to a humble guy who washes your windscreenat the petrol station.Or you might slip it into the tight back pocketof a new pair of jeans to listen to it clink in rotationwhen you forget to take it outContinue reading “If You’ve Got A Coin”
When I Write
There’s no meadow I look out onand think: that there, I want to explore!But not with my feet, no ratherwith a mess of lines ink-spilt ona clear sea of white paper.There’s not a time or place I visit in my mindthinking I need to escape thisreality. No, I simply slip through a hole in thoughtandContinue reading “When I Write”
Out Of Breath
The sun bakes sweat on my skinwhere your imprint lays dormant.My breath is short and ticksin my chest: a rhythmout of balance with my feet. I close mine to meet with your eyes.A vision of your mouth without a smileunearths the darkness hidden underthe soft coating of a tongue,pulsing in time when we kiss again.Continue reading “Out Of Breath”
Grandmother
A liberal take on pantoum She reached out an arm to gift me a pearas I sat cross-legged, my hands turned to my back.Her hair wasn’t yellow, but some would sayit was the only shade a rainbow might lack. As I sat cross-legged, throwing my hand towards her gifther nose crinkled at the bridge inContinue reading “Grandmother”
Words & Things 