On Wednesday morning with my eyes closed I looked through the window and listened – to – the natural percussion of pouring rain drumming against mottled flagstones creating a cacophony of calm in the storm of my mind not quite serenity but not far off.
I hoped you enjoyed reading this poem. Feel free to have a look at my other work or leave a comment if you wish.
on christmas eve i like to sing along to the christmas songs of yesteryear when the gifts are wrapped neat little bows twinkling under lights from the tree aromas of spice, pine & mulled wine filling the house scented memories connecting us all even though we may be apart.
have a wonderful christmas and an incredible new year.
finding comfort in a chunky knit sweater and sherpa-lined socks hands clasped around my favourite mug the steamy scent of hot ginger wine waltzing in the air with the aroma of an oud wood candle while the crackle of beechwood burning on the tv soothes selflessly the hardest choice I have is deciding what book to get lost in.
remember that time you had fun watching the fireworks fly rivers of light flowing across the sky whilst a tower of kindling burned nearby well aware the scent would wrap around your clothes inhaling the ashen smoke through a crimpled nose sipping hot chocolate with friends by your side watching people queue to gorge on something fried those were great times and the photos we captured show sincere elation like the one that caught you laughing when someone shrieked at the shrill of a rocket in ascent an excitable reaction that you’ll never forget and the time you wrote expletives with a sparkler in the air and people were frowning and you didn’t care but now you’ve joined a group on Facebook whose culture is to cancel and signal their virtue I know this is a display and I’m really sorry for you that you’d rather be passive and see the world in grey and beige than admire the spectrum free of echoed rage banning the possibility of fun when you’ve already flew close to the sun and enjoyed the inferno on your face is a bit of a hypocritical disgrace.
It was you who once told me the reason why fireworks will always be fun and bonfires welcome is what they represent the overthrow of control by those who have been oppressed so rather than call for a blanket ban add some fuel to the fire and inhale the memories of fun washed in smoke.
Thanks for taking the time to read this poem inspired by the rise of cancel culture and hypocrisy.
In my younger years i was always afraid of falling down but fear has been replaced with a potent intoxicating euphoria when this planetary mass of mine descends with thunderous precision or occasional feather-light bedlam when cloth & skin & flesh encounter earth i revel in the writhing of reverting to verticality safe in the knowledge that any bloomed bruises or scratched skin will heal but i’ll still wear them crystalline merits of resilience because the euphoria of falling is fleeting it’s the rising up i always remember.
Thanks for taking the time to read my poem, feel free to have a look around the rest of my site.
of filter coffee and croissants warm and buttery lazily absorbing Saturday’s news through inked fingers and papercuts whilst audibly inhaling songs from the twentieth century we wear chunky scratching knits and chunkier cotton socks that fill well worn walking shoes with rusted suede uppers we fill noisy metal bottles with water filtered through plastic beads then tightly pack them into a roll away backpack awaiting adventure that beckons from paths littered with burnt leaves and forest floor detritus our casual meandering scored with the sound of mulching mud under rubber soles the scurry of squirrels and swaying branches memories made and recorded in 16:9 high definition then the return voyage home in time to prep a veritable feast but that’s a ritual, i’ll keep to myself.
Thanks for taking your time to read this poem. I love hearing your thoughts and any feedback you may have.