The Hag

Was in a bit of dark mood when I wrote this one.

The Hag

Bone white wild strands snake from the ancient head
Dead raven eyes beneath a time blasted brow
With ghost like steps she approaches
Reality rended asunder with taloned fingers
Wrenching my head back with chilling force
An ironic leer spreads a crooked crack of a smile
Across a skull beneath taut parchment skin
She drags me screaming again
Through the rended gateway
Portal to the unreality
Dark enshrouded worlds lost in void
Impregnated with vampire mists
And grey wraiths whispering false truths

The Gift

A while back I started writing a Christmas poem each year. Thought it would be a nice personalised kind of gift. Besides which it provides a contrast with the distinctly unimaginative gift vouchers I seem to buy each year

This is the first of three Christmas poems I have written so far.

The Gift

I give to you a cup,
Crudely forged from dreamy musings,
Yet true enough to hold all hopes,
Large enough to slake the soul,
A goblet of the heart never filled,
The mind refreshed by delicate sips,
A vessel containing few words,
Yet brimming with oceans of meaning,
I give to you a cup of verse,
To toast the yuletide season

Slow Tea Time

Was drinking a cup of tea (slowly) when I came up with this one.

Slow Tea Time

I may be the slowest tea drinker in the world
The contents of my cup will be cold
But the conversation is warm
The company pleasant
There are so many things to discuss
So many stories to share
Minds to meet
Thoughts to blend
Time already runs away from us
Each day slips through our fingers
Why measure it by a level in a cup?
The tide mark in a pot?
When it is best to take our time
And savour the moments we have

Tiny Quotes – Pliny the Younger

The next tiny quote comes from Pliny the Younger, a Roman lawyer and landowner, who lived during the first century A.D. In a letter to his friend Caninius Rufus, Pliny tries to encourage him to pursue his creative interests.

“Create something, perfect it to be yours for all time; for everything else you possess will fall to one or another master after you are dead, but this will never cease to be yours once it has come into being.“

Pliny the Younger Letters 1.3 in Radice, B. (trans.) The Letters of the Younger Pliny London: Penguin

Thinking

It was Friday afternoon. Couldn’t concentrate on my work so I started thinking about the pint of beer waiting at the end of a long day. It is kind of silly.. but what the hey.

Thinking

I think I’ll have a pint
I think I’ll have a think
I think I’ll have another pint
I think I’ll have a think
I think I’ll have another pint
I think I’ll have a drink.. er.. think
I think I’ll have another pint
I think I’ll drink a think.. um.. have a think
I think I’ll have another pint
I thunk something.. hic
I think I’ll have another pint
What??! Who are you??! ..wahey!
I think I’ll have another pint
Hey whose beer ish thish!! Mine now.. heh he
I think I’ll have another pint
HEY JUDE!!! DON’T MAKE IT sad.. What the f_ck?! What you lookin at buddy!!
I think I’ll have another pint
ZZZZzzz…

Poem to Beau

Another small piece. Wrote this one when I had a sudden surge of romantic feelings. The Beau in question? No Beau just a hopeless romantic composing poems to hypothetical lovers.

Poem to beau

Eyes,
Twin Suns,
Suspended above the twilight glow of your face,
Setting upon the horizon of your lips

The Idea

Wrote this little piece today. The idea to write a poem about an idea gnawed away at me (another eating reference) all morning until I wrote the damn thing and finally satiated it.

The Idea

Tiny worm inside my head
Chewing through my thoughts
Swallowing my time
Eating my concentration
Snacking on my sanity
Gorging itself on the chaos in my mind