Stitch This

  • Blank

    Blank

    I haven’t written a poem in ages. My pen sticks to sketching, My words have gone dark. I’ve not been rhyming I’ve not written ditties. It’s brush strokes these days that I work.  Perhaps I have hoisted myself from the depths I really don’t know why I’ve stopped. I think it’s a temporary, interim thing…

  • Dial

    Dial

    They turned the volume down, I think? It suddenly all went dim And I remember thinking its not me, it definitely must be them The cotton wool bound round my chords My ears were underwater I tried to turn it up again But it just got far fraughter And now I’ve moved inside myself I…

  • 63 years, iron filings

    63 years, iron filings

    Or, On meeting a man in the pub We stood there together in front of the crowd And promised each other our lives and ourselves Your hand on my back Me holding you tight Not daring to look straight To stare at the light That image is burnt now It’s seared on my soul It’s…

  • Poetic panic

    Poetic panic

         There’s a special kind of terror When you’re lying on the beach And you’re suddenly aware that your child is out of reach And you can’t see hide nor hair of him He has gone with out a trace And you are seeing milk cartons Printed with his smiling face Then, you spy him,…

  • Parked

    Parked

    I have an itch, I have a scratch I sometimes wonder if I can match My old ways, my triumphs, my career success. Will I ever, like I once did, get power dressed? My glories have gone now I’m off the fast track I’ve stepped down and slowed down I’ll never go back. But I…