Hardlines

The softness of folded letters

And finding some degree of similarity

Is a paradox

On this estate

Part public, part private

Partings of ways and manners

What was once important

Is smoothed over

On common ground

Where we live

Near Lovers Park

The survivor’s delicatessen

Suspended in air

Two balloons scrape our chimney

Lowry’s empty sky

There isn’t a breath

Of wind to keep us here

-they holler

We run outside

And help fold the sheets

On promised land.

Advertisements

Blind panic

I am a mouse.

Timid. Listening.

Scrambling.

I’ll die.

You are a rock.

Human. Vast.

Beautiful!

My shelter in winter.

You see me and despair.

We’ll live.

Indifference

For all the noise

It is bloated indifference

That is most ravenous.

Our horror in realising

The relative closeness

Of its smile wrapped

Around our face

Smothered in silence

Complicit snake.

Line

We look down into the void,

Its yawning indifference to the weight

Placed on both sides, barely aware,

How close to the edge we all are.

Appalled. Too afraid to let go.

And fall into what had been forgotten.

Territory.

The world seems such a small place.

That, or its lights shine brightly.

And those at the front are left to burn.

Gone for awhile

She’d left such pretty things on display

And a note to explain that she may

Be gone for awhile, perhaps a day.

Rose garden

This rose garden is an aberration of nature,

So much beauty for one acre,

But there are spaces where we come and go and make repair.

Some people fear revolution,

They forget or never felt the hunger that came before,

Here we remember what blooms when everything’s blunt and bare.

What’s a poem?

Reaching out from itself it sits square

In the brisk dusk of a bus station

Waiting for a number 44 or a 45.

http://www.shakespeare-online.com/sonnets/44.html

http://www.shakespeares-sonnets.com/sonnet/45