Saccharine. A poem.
Your bold sweetness leaves the bitter taste of regret, a sensate lamentation, dissonant on my tongue. This saccharine tinge leaves me cold and wanting; a vine that dies from frost that sears the roots black and returns them back to … Continue reading Saccharine. A poem.
The Good Son.
My son, God love him, turned twenty this year. It’s hard not to think of him as a teenager, though, as he still lacks that special something that signifies him as an adult. No, not body hair; he’s got more than enough of that–inherited from his grandfather, who’s known as the ‘silverback’ (yeah, you guessed it. After the gorilla). It’s common sense I’m talking about. That undefinable understanding about how to get by in life, how stuff works; that sort of thing. No, not how the internal combustion engine works, because even I don’t understand that. It’s about the basics: … Continue reading The Good Son.
Climb. A poem.
Climb. Against the winds that claim this bitter peak, that scrape and slurry and mince no words but enforce dominion and push and pull and drag you down until you can climb no more. Climb. My first book of poetry, The All or the Nothing, is available … Continue reading Climb. A poem.
Magnetic. A poem.
Feel me here: antediluvian, lumbering. As unlike as we are, an inordinate attraction like opposite magnetic poles, dragging us together like merciless luna tides. Your lightning source code will tame this savage beast, magnetic moments designed to simulate a halcyon … Continue reading Magnetic. A poem.
Anvil. Part 4.
Shi-Cho has worked spec ops for many years. His body has been wounded, trashed and rebuilt so many times he almost forgets which parts are human and which are cybernetic. His left eye is biosynthetic, but his right is original. … Continue reading Anvil. Part 4.
Linger Longer. A poem.
Why do I always linger longer in this place? Why do I capitulate to my black dog space? I throw the stick for him and he brings it back for me to beat myself again, so he can jump and … Continue reading Linger Longer. A poem.
Haiku Friday. ‘Dressed to Kill’, a haiku trilogy.
Dressed to Kill. A haiku trilogy. 1. Dressed Dressed to kill, you are; A fortunate turn for me, can’t avert my eyes. 2. High You float on high heels, that could puncture my heart through like Cupid’s arrow. 3. Gone … Continue reading Haiku Friday. ‘Dressed to Kill’, a haiku trilogy.
Upstart Photographer #7. And poems, no less.
Yep, it’s that time of the month, again. Time for some dreary photos to liven up your/my dreary world. This time, I’ve included a few (very) brief poems to accompany my black and white, unfiltered shots. Sunlight. A poem. Through … Continue reading Upstart Photographer #7. And poems, no less.
U r. A poem.
U r the heavenly glimpse unspoken. U r the enigmatic mystery unleashed. U r my unfettered tragedy in the making. U r the starving soul to which I’m drawn. U r the the boundless ocean to which I succumb. U … Continue reading U r. A poem.
Strangely Surprised. A poem.
Strangely surprised: it would seem I believed that I’d be so much wiser from here on, indeed. It just took one glance and I’m back on the teat, pride reined in per chance, all humility. Strangely surprised that there’s no … Continue reading Strangely Surprised. A poem.
Anvil. Part 3.
The little girl flinches, stepping back and hugging the teddy bear and Granny Chun’s leg. “Well what did you expect?” says the old woman. “You come here looking like some badass, muscle-head man and expect your daughter to recognise you?” … Continue reading Anvil. Part 3.
Concrete. A poem.
Here I am, brought to heel by poor choices and destiny, to learn a well-earned lesson of respect and humility. Here behind this concrete veil, my hope is born anew. All thin facade and curtain call, a life sentence, all … Continue reading Concrete. A poem.
A Captured Moment. A poem.
The most beautiful woman in the world smiled at me and laughed with me and had me hypnotised with every sultry breath and swollen, fulsome thought. I was so enraptured that I wanted one single moment of this polychromatic butterfly … Continue reading A Captured Moment. A poem.
Haiku Friday. ‘Star Shells Sing’ – a haiku trilogy.
Star Shells Sing. A haiku trilogy. 1. Star See the stars above, sing songs of restless passion. I know how they feel. 2. Shells I would take them all; capture all the star-bright shells, cast them on your shore. 3. … Continue reading Haiku Friday. ‘Star Shells Sing’ – a haiku trilogy.
Entwined. A poem.
Entwined, we two; encapsulated in a mad statement, read between lines and screamed between pages. A subtle madness, shortness of breath, long, laboured movement and languid, liquid refrain. Teetering on the brink of apogee, into a light that breaks this … Continue reading Entwined. A poem.
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