Tag Archives: poetry

depths called high

There is tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow, Each rolls on, dark, unrepentant. Dry days heap one on one in dusting heaps since you plunged forth, Quiet in your falling, Silent off slipping, But inwardly, awkwardly utterly missed. You were not … Continue reading

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violet skies….

The night is moist to touch. Wet, warm, sensuous, just a little too much. It’s the kiss you pull away from. Air heavy hot, Only cut clean by the rat a tat rattle of the distant train track, An edge … Continue reading

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what I cannot…

I cannot stop this, Cannot fix it. I cannot hold myself a halt, To pause a comma. I am caught in cannots but bind myself belief, To find a word to bring you. And I would bring you, Safe, To … Continue reading

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love lasts longer…

Love lasts longer than the falling sigh, The cast down look.

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remembered landscapes…

There are landscapes I have trodden. I keep them with me: a variety box of colours, continents, wonders carried home. I have mountains, rivers, oceans, dust deserts, rolled tight so as to travel well without crumpling. On grey dark days … Continue reading

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life lived with open windows…

I said I would not do this again, but words are just words. We both know that. Life takes unexpected turns and it felt right. So I’m here. Another here, flown far from there. Living another life for a little … Continue reading

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life unlived in…

And there are mornings, evenings, afternoons, Stretching thin to nothing. I don’t count them now. And there is tick tock of time that no longer sounds on the clock, The thrum thrum hum of the copier that inks me in, … Continue reading

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night walk..

At nine the night is empty, Snow silent, Soft with secrets that drift and dream. The evening flickers bright by TV light. Through curtain chinks, Families chew. That green gleam holds life in sight, But it is lived elsewhere, Inside. … Continue reading

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snow story..

The days break under foot, Ice bound, Dead cold, But beauty blooms resilient. Another world is just a hedge hop away. Though it takes grit and grime to get there, Through snow stained with shit and piss, Stark and litter … Continue reading

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digging up the dead…

I’m sorry. The dead do not speak for us to hear them. All unanswered questions must be jam-jarred for a rainy day, The arguments sit pickled, part done when the chills come on. The love yous linger but they are … Continue reading

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