What Is A Fire Without Flame?

a dispassionate mound
of glaucous ash
the warmth lost
ready to die out
at any moment

or rather

a scattering of embers
the reminder of warmth
we shared
when flames flickered in frivolity
kissing and caressing
kindling and coal
when white,gold and ochre
danced
as strong as they could 
for as long as they could
to the gentle chaotic rhythm of crackling
shades of silver in the hearth
silently whispering
Live Life Like The Fire.

I hope you’ve enjoyed reading this poem and are having a great day.

Take it Easy

Paul

Image courtesy of Canva.

Dedication

I felt it was an insult that
each new street
was named after
a different species of tree
they chopped down
a lasting dedication to
rapid decimation
of the ancient woodland and hedgerow
their deaths were dealt so swiftly
that the hawthorn berries
didn’t even get time to bleed.

Now when I walk past
Oak Avenue, Ash Drive & Beech Terrace
each brimming with life
I think of the bricks, mortar and glass
I believe the woodland remains
just in a different guise
and the dedication isn’t an insult
but a celebration of what came before
that the trees that once thrived there
are a solid foundation for new roots to form.

Thanks for taking the time to read this poem, feel free to leave a comment if you wish.

The Display

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.

(Image adapted from Jamie Street via Unsplash)

A Lesson in Falling

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.

(Image courtesy Canva)

Sunday morning rituals

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.

(Image: taken from Canva)

Chimneys – A Haiku

indigo darkness
marauding across rooftops
chimneys breathe heavy

Here’s a little Monday evening haiku. The nights are setting in quickly now in Newcastle with some lovely shades of colour among the blackened blue.

Why not check some of my other writing while your here.

I love reading your feedback.

Take it easy.

Paul.

Time Travel

Taking a carefree stroll
through an inviting burrow
of oak, ash, cedar, elm and yew
I allow myself
to talk to the trees
and travel through time
the history stored
in trunks and roots
is phenomenal
whispered secrets
shared by the world
filtered through canopies
of bronze, emeralds and golds
could fill all the libraries
in all the world
woodland sentinels
silently observing
passers-by
witnessing the same
litany of mistakes
made by multiple generations
the main one being
that your present
is already your past
and the future is now.

This is something I’ve learned
by talking to trees
while travelling through time.

I hope you’ve enjoyed reading this poem, inspired by wandering in the woods and listening. I’d love to know your thoughts.

Atoms

It’s important
to remember
the same atoms
that felt
silent rapturous awe
at the big bang
stared with intense curiosity
at the dawn of time
that bathed
in the liquid gold
of countless stars
embraced the purity
of moons
and appreciate
the endlessly evolving
elegance of the cosmos
the same atoms
that built
and inspired
the greatest minds
and put words into quill, ink & pen
the same atoms
that are architects
and demolishers
are in all of us
and everything.

We are all
the planets and their chaos
the stars and their fury
the moons and their melancholy
we are universal
we are infinite
we may feel different
but really
we are all the same
atoms.