author

Calm

I welcome the storm 
         she’s                an old            friend
kissing 	     fire                      into my lungs 
until  I'm   breathless 
they          blame her                     for destruction 
but I simply offer thanks
for 	breaking 			down 			the clutter
                 in my mind
	giving me 
                          focus.

Thanks for taking the time to read my poem. It has been a while since I’ve posted however I’m squirrelling away working on a couple of projects.

Let me know what you think in the comments.

Take it easy,

Paul

Crime Writing Class

For Christmas, my wife bought me a Crime Writing Class from CityLit.

I’m just over halfway through and it’s fantastic. I feel like I’ve learned so much already. It’s weekly over zoom and we receive peer feedback on our writing. 

One of the pieces of homework was a 250-piece monologue from a villain’s perspective after committing a crime. It was to justify their actions. I chose to have a corrupt cop who’d just killed a drug dealer for not paying a debt. 

Below is his internal monologue;

He had to die really. I had no choice. If I’m honest with myself, I was going to have to kill him sooner or later. At least I had a good excuse, no not excuse, a reason to do it now.  He disrespected me. The little smackrat weasel. Who did he think he was? He was getting too big for his boots. Plus, if I went down, who else would control this dogshit of a town. My arrest record speaks for itself. I get confessions as well. Sometimes they require a bit of incentive I admit. Like threatening to break a wife’s kneecaps if they didn’t admit to what was it again? Oh yeah, affray. What was I thinking of again? That’s right. Who’ll clean up the sludge and filth in this cesspit of a town? The DCI and his Conservative club friends? That new DC who’s feeding info to the police corruption unit and thinks I don’t know about it? Do me a favour. They’re not fit for the frontline. I am. But if this little junky rat gave them what he knew – well that would be it. I couldn’t cover that up. Too many handshakes. It’s right that he’s dead. And he died with the love of his life. Heroin. End of the day, one more dealer and junkie off the streets is a good thing. Burglary will fall a couple per cent. Bonus. I just need to make it look like I found him. Little weaselly scumbag.

I’d love to know your thoughts and welcome any constructive feedback you may have. 

Take It Easy

Paul

Morbid Voyeur

The sneering wind 
flays the sycamore tree of limp,	 weak-willed branches
and their 	lichen tapestries  -		pearl and straw-yellow
while I stand		 watching,
a voyeur 			of death and violence
the wind doesn't want me to watch
howls at 	me 	to 	turn away
                        howls of 	shame
                        howls of 			embarrassment 
                        howls of 						       guilt
It ramps things up 
tearing down 		an elderly fence
that's been 	grey 	and withered 		for a while
Shock tactics.
But it doesn't shock me.
                         I’m still standing. Still watching.

Thanks for taking the time to read my poem. Did you like it? Feel free to leave a comment below or any constructive criticism.

Take It Easy

Paul.

A Lament

The   sky   shows   no   blue   today
	only        the 		dullness 
                 of     burnt     steel
                          brittle   cracks   form
       drizzle falls 
                    lying static       in        the      air
tears    to mourn  an unwell world
         even the gulls are silent in respect.

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Thanks for taking the time to read what is a sombre poem. 
I hope you're well and having a great January so far. It feels like it has lasted forever. 

Take it Easy,

Paul

8:12 AM

The schoolchildren seem happy 
chattering as they skip and walk by the front window
	a raft of ducks navigating 
a concrete river littered with outgrown hedges
 	their parents seldom looking over their shoulders
- early lessons in personal safety.

Thanks for taking the time to read a further adventure in imagist poetry. I’m finding the practice and method quite liberating.

I hope your January is going well so far.

Take It Easy,

Paul

The Commute

The platform is wet from last nights rain
          but this morning
the sun has wove threads of gold
sewing itself to the soft cloud
a handful of people smile at tiny escaping strands of light
         the look of hope on their faces
scores of others turn away looking down
              cheekbones rigid with anguish
a reminder of the darkness in their life
and I’m people watching
wondering what type of person
          will sit next to me on today’s journey.

Thanks for taking the time to read this poem. It’s my first piece of 2022, I’ve been mega busy.

Take It Easy

Paul

Christmas Holiday Daredevils

The snow fell softly, silently,
blanketing the town before daybreak;
it was deep enough to sledge in – and lose a boot;
out the window, a march had already begun,
street kids trailing sledges and inner tubes from old tractor tyres,
towards the hills of the golf course and their hills;
the walk took us past the bare hedgerows,
showing the families already there;
a dad and daughter skimming down on a black binliner,
and some of the older lads on an old car bonnet
spinning every which way.

At the entrance, scrambling over stile,
I was ready to tackle the hill,
dodging bodies to reach the top and the quick queue,
quicker than I’d ever seen;
it was tradition to share the first trip down with Ni;
he handled the steering, as we sped in a bullet-straight line,
all the way to the bottom,
so we went again and again and again – together and apart,
until my final solo descent, which was
headfirst, full of fear and peer pressure;
I almost made it until I ate a wedge of snow, hurting my arm;
one of the car bonnet boys had to pull me out of the way,
as the dad and daughter sped past my feet, binliner shredded to pieces,
their fun finished as well;
my brother left to trail the sledge
as we laughed all the way home;
full of childhood adrenaline, arctic air
and last night’s snow.

Advent Calendar Haiku #15

Happy Wednesday and Haiku Advent Calendar day fifteen to you. Hope you’re well and into the Christmas spirit. I know that I am.

Yesterday, apart from my Haiku, I also shared my poem ‘At Christmas’. That might help you get in your groove.

Today’s haiku is…

Melting icicles
fall like arrows to earth;
magpies scared silent.

Thanks for joining me today and remember to come back tomorrow for another day of the Haiku Advent Calendar.

If you would to read ‘At Christmas’, please click here.

Take It Easy

Paul

Advent Calendar Haiku #13

Welcome to day thirteen of the Haiku Advent Calendar and the start of a fresh week.

I hope you’re weekend was fun, we put up the tree, had some mulled wine and mince pies and watched an episode of Only Fools and Horses. Cushty!!!

Today’s haiku is…

We startled the doe,
boots crunching through frozen leaves;
tender snowflakes fall.

Thanks and remember to come back tomorrow for your next installment of the Haiku Advent Calendar.


Take It Easy

Paul

Bobby’s Wake

The pitmen gather around the empty hearse,
standing like Davids around Goliath,
some with roll-up cigs burning,
a glowing tobacco-fuelled pyre for,
another brother lost to history.

The colliery band are gearing up,
it’s good to see them still looking strong,
a shame some of the brass looks dull,
but the sapphire and gold thread of the banner,
is still resplendent in the tender summer drizzle.

Bobby’s family give their thanks to the vicar,
with a handshake and bottle of whisky;
his widow unsteady from grief
– and a brandy she’d drank for his honour and her nerves –
is weightless in the arms of her daughters,
the sorrow they’re carrying is a heavy enough burden.

Some of his friends from the village,
wander around the nearby graves,
hunching over the headstones and fading flowerheads,
making empty apologies they aren’t there more often.


Everyone congregates at the roadside when the band begins,
ready for the march to the pub;
tubas and trumpets blowing out the tune to
‘The Bonny Pit Laddie’
a reminder of the man,
just returned to the earth;
close to the coal he used to dig.


At the pub – we all raise a ‘Percy Special’ in toast,
and the tales and tankards come thick and fast;
like pick-axes on silver-black mine walls,
did only a couple of years ago;
the only hush comes from the opening of the buffet table.


These ageing men who’ve fought the police and government;
legends in their own lifetimes;
know that they’ll be together again soon enough,
wondering if they’ll be the missing face, lying in the dirt;
some have a fleeting sadness on their hard faces,
quickly burnt away by the furnace behind their eyes,
and then songs break out with soft smiles

– this is a celebration.

Thanks for taking the time to read this poem.

I really appreciate all your support.

Take It Easy

Paul