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

Celebrating Being Published!!!

Today I’m celebrating  being published!!!

I recently submitted a poem to ‘Flight of the Dragonfly’, an amazing quarterly journal, and got accepted!

The poem is about a rite of passage for me and my brother growing up in rural Northumberland and I am very proud of it.

When my work is published, especially something so personal, is always a great feeling.

To read ‘The Lambs’, please click the link below;

I really hope you all enjoy it.

Take It Easy

Paul

Advent Calendar Haiku #8

Where is the time going? It’s day eight of the Haiku Advent Calendar and I can’t believe it’s Wednesday already.

Today’s haiku was written in annoyance that no matter how hard I try I am sometimes (actually oftentimes) clumsy such as breakfast today.

So without further ado…

My Nordic jumper
is stained with clementine juice;
sleet flurries outside.

Have you had any mishaps so far this December? Let me know.

Take It Easy

Paul

Feeling

He sits with sadness in his eyes,
mercury-blue and moist,
no light shines on his face,
apart from the moon,
who cups his cheek,
from her perch in the sky,
she understands melancholy,
but he ignores her offer of help,
turning away from her slender illuminating fingers,
instead he pushes the pain down,
burying with the rest of his misery,
he shouldn’t show emotion or cry,
that’s not what men do,
how many times does he need to be told.

He takes a breath,
agitating the mercury with woollen sleeves,
he sweeps away the tears,
then paints a watercolour happiness over his face,
just in time, for his wife has returned to him,
and when she asks how he is,
in reply, with all his strength,
he let’s a tear fall and tells her how he feels.


Thanks for taking the time to read this poem. I am big supporter of men’s mental health and this deals with men being able to open up to their partners.

Take It Easy,

Paul

(image courtesy of Nik Shuliahin on unsplash)

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

Sarcophagi

The low autumn sun
blinding-white but bereft of gold
because the beech and sycamore stole it
to paint their leaves
before purging the dying
windswept sarcophagi of the season
everyone and everything
wants to be a king for a day
and all kings know kingdoms fall
crumble to decay
and history remembers in bronze
the colour of rotting leaves
atoms return to atoms
return to life elsewhere.

Thanks for taking the time to read my poem about autumn.

I hope you enjoyed it, if so why not check some of my other work out.

Take It Easy

Paul

Photo from unsplash: Ilham Ramadhan

The Sculptor

My palms are worn leather
handling hammer and chisel
the sinew in my forearms is taut
carrying marble creates strength
my neck stands tired yet agile
from always looking upwards
but my days of crafting pedestals is over
so I’ll wait for my body to reset
and return to an even keel
the cost of marble is too much
once it’s been etched
it can’t be returned
even though I probably value the material
more than the people I’ve placed upon it
I’ll craft myself an armchair
to rest and read on
and watch the pedestals crumble.

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Thanks for taking the time to read my poem. If you want to read more, feel free to browse the site.

Take It Easy,

Paul

Autumn & I

I welcome Autumn
as she drapes me
in a blanket of bronze and straw-gold
whispering seductive sweet promises of
late lavender sunrises
and delicious red sunsets
she mentions velvet night-skies flecked with tiny diamonds
and an occasional silent symphony by the Northern Lights
even the rain softens under her presence
guiding acorns to ground
while winged sycamores float safely down
and when the wind wraps itself around her
it whistles happily
carrying her scent of blackberry and pear
feeding my nostalgia of years gone by
everything about Autumn is chaos
everything about Autumn is just so
I long for her and her embrace to return
by the time Winter shakes my hand
with his icy fingers.

Thanks for taking the time to read this poem , I hope you enjoyed it. Feel free to leave any comments you may like.

Take It Easy,

Paul