I was always a square peg, out-of-place in round holes with all the rounded souls. An outsider striving to make his way inside, always locked out in the cold. A perpetual stranger, dwelling amongst strangers and stranger things, I’d wager. … Continue reading Square Peg. A poem.
The cataclysm, the implosion, the thing that left me frozen. Eking out existence like a hermit crying “why?”, wandering through a wasteland, a prisoner doing time. The aftermath, a dawn, rebirth, the world that to me opened. A brand new … Continue reading After the Cataclysm. A poem.
I’m mister brusque, mitigated by your infinite charm. I’m the wallflower waiting for your effervescent sunbeams. I’m the wall of condescension, you’re the ebullient ladder. I’m the aching pit and you, You are my fulfilment. I write a lot of … Continue reading Fulfilment. A poem.
When I was a child I skipped pavement cracks; each one the border of its own little world, a patented microcosm enclosed by grass and cement and enshrouded by my shadow. Now, as an adult, I still skip pavement cracks; … Continue reading Pavement Cracks. A poem.
More alike than we like to think. Along a chasm of separate worlds, here we stand upon the brink of more than lowly words. I long for you, for a subtle touch and you long for just a thought. Perhaps … Continue reading The Brink. A poem.
My being is the core of my being. My being is the core of my being. My being is the core of my being. My being is the core of my being. The All or the Nothing is my first … Continue reading The Core of My Being. A poem.
Shadow The lone flower in the field is shaded by the shadow of your doubt. Haiku is a Japanese poetic form with a strict 5/7/5 syllable and line structure. Cheers Steve 🙂 The All or the Nothing is my first … Continue reading Haiku Friday. Shadow – a lone haiku.
Okay, a few people asked me this. I thought I’d oblige with a post. I write the majority of my drafts on my iPhone, while I’m walking, watching TV, or sitting on the toilet (my compositional repository of choice). My … Continue reading The Poetry Writing Process
I crawl the vault of years, hunched and broken, bereft and decaying. Unforgiven and unforgiving, trapped in webs of deceit, waylaid in poisonous shrouds. Are you here to free me? Or join the gallery? Come crawl this vault of years … Continue reading Vault of Years. A poem.
I climbed the path on the mountain of no return, and viewed the valley, so treacherously far below. From here everything seemed so far away, so inconsequential and purposeless. And there I would sit, through rain and snow, living an … Continue reading Far. A poem.
I hear you, I see you; your mirror face tells no lies but hides the truth, like a waxing moon hiding the sun from the subtle stars. I hear you, I see you, I hold you; you are wine within … Continue reading Keepsake. A poem.
Explain your editing process. What works best for you? Do you take risks? Are you objective? How have you taken the poems through its steps to completion? The Song Poetic. A poem about writing and editing poems. The toilet provides … Continue reading On Writing and Editing Poetry
My heart was torn, tiny pieces shredded like origami shapes fluttering on the wind. Just like every paper person in my overcrowded mind, an overcrowded sea of paper people, with shredded paper hearts, like origami shapes fluttering on the wind. … Continue reading Paper Hearts. A poem.
You are the prowling shark loitering in choppy waters waiting on a hint of blood to fuel your hungry needs. You sniff and search for snippets to exploit, building trust with deception to cover your misdeeds. You are a betrayer … Continue reading Backstab. A poem.
I waited and waited and hoped and you arrived. Without acclaim, without excess, but not without baggage of your own. Seared with silent wounds in mirrored grace and Savoir-Faire. And all the waiting and the hope, all the self-hate and … Continue reading Arrival. A poem.
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