Category: reflections

A rocket hit the moon today at seven times the speed of sound before I’d even burnt my toast the Falcon Nine met lunar ground. With teslascopic eyes we heard a plume of cratered dust arise delayed in time by half a breath across the distance twixt our skies. A pile of debris thus accretes…

In the lands of Topsy Turvy there’s a book that reads itself and a pile of words  that have never been heard on a libraries empty shelf, there’s a clock that’s ticking backwards and a wind that never blows, there’s a path that leads to yesterday and a plan that no-one knows. In the land…

I heard it first, a rumble midst the choral sound of birds, the air in thrumming density, the murmuring of war-like words, I watch a shadow pass across the meadowlands of hay and saw the gun-metal silhouettes of RAF at play. I ask myself the question am I glad that I am safe? Far from…

Appalled by what he saw, the poet pen in hand declared in words escaping from his pen that it is happening, again. Relentless in inanity resulting in calamity as witnessed in the mangled form of long forgotten decency. Ahem… You know that you’re in trouble when a bin becomes the antidote when mockery and satire…

Performative in puppet style old frog face bends the knee, a helicopter ride with flowers shows the world what it wants to see. A man of marmite flavour British Bovril at its best a bully who drinks Bitter ale who’s soon to face the Clacton test. A klaxon bell is sounding on the streets where…

Poems unread themselves into silence as the poet stares at the void ahead, where moments go unmeasured and the world allows itself to hide behind the feeling of being too busy.

Mayhem came and hung around while blossoms came and went, Maydays went unanswered in the time where May was spent maybe they will realise before it gets too late that Maydays caused by mayhem may not make America great ( again ) Mayhem came and hung around while blossoms came and went, Maydays went unanswered…

The fool sees not what the wise man sees, Sees not the worth of Honey bees Nor the value felt in standing trees or the depths of life in the frozen seas. The fool sees only that which shimmers not the price of tinselled glare fails to notice that which matters registers, but doesnt care. The wise…

The fool knows that the moon will rise and carry light across the skies, he thinks perhaps one day it might decide to flee and leave the night. He wouldn’t blame it if it chose to roll its eyes and spite its nose and leave the orbit of the earth in search of other planets…