Paper is a good listener
Continue reading “Paper Is A Good Listener”
With an eloquence serene
The scrawling nib that writes
The thoughts of what I mean
What will we wake up to, tomorrow?
Continue reading “New Day”
Can the sun bear to shine on a new, fresh sorrow?
Where will be hurting?
Who will be crying?
What breed of hate will make sense of the dying?
I lost my Parkrun newbie badge
Continue reading “The Running Bug”
At Oakwell Hall Parkrun in Birstall
It was the day before my birthday
So I was looking forward to cake
I am being haunted by cake.
Continue reading “I Am Being Haunted By Cake”
In the morning when I wake,
I can taste it on the tip of my tongue
I’m woken to the smell of coffee and toffee cakes,
of lemon drizzle, chocolate puddings, red-velvet, ice-cream, battenberg…
In Biblical terms three score and ten, is our allotted span.
Continue reading “A Letter To My Future Self”
Six decades gone already, so I have just one more to plan.
I often write to do lists, but this time perhaps I won’t.
Risking negativity, I think I’ll write a list of don’ts.
Every day we turn on the news at 8
Continue reading “Because Today Is Just Another News Story”
Every day brings another heartache
Bombs of the battlefield are now placed
In the offices of our elected officials
Intended to turn their bodies into a bloody paste
Though from our warm living rooms and plush armchairs
It doesn’t seem all that bad.
The wind whispers the words of ghosts haunting my memory in flashes of sweet, silent clarity,
and I remember.
I remember souls reaching as waves grasping for shore
And I remember joy
I remember hearts yearning as I had never endured before
And I remember love
I remember pain;
I hear echoes form in shadows as I walk alone; belonging to a time of pure, complicated innocence
And I try to forget
I try to forget the agony of religious intrusion
Yet I remember fear
I try to forget the confusion of unimaginable hate
Yet I remember loss
And yet I remember.
I remember defiance;
I remember defiance in blissful tear stained moments together,
I remember the separation of time and the anguish of death.
And I feel the hollow wound where we once hid in our search for truth, peace and acceptance
And still, I remember you.
Curious minds scour the wreckage
Continue reading “What Were They Thinking?”
Pouring over the items they find.
‘What happened here?’ they cry
Eyes dumbfounded and minds confused