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On Ukraine
Bang, bang, bang. Door closed.Someone’s knocking on each side.Do not let them in. ~ n.b. Day 583. Futility. “Was it for this the clay grew tall?” (Wilfred Owen). CLP 29/09/2023 Read more
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on Ukraine
I read five, eight, oneBefore too long it’ll be yearsLosing track of time ~ n.b. Every single day there is more war. Some people are getting very rich. There is always money for war, but for earthquakes and securing infrastructure, not so much. CLP 28/09/2023 Read more
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on Ukraine
tuning out the newsvillages lost or regainedwe head for the beach ~ n.b. War, long periods of boredom, broken by moments of complete terror, so something like that. I’m lucky to live in a country where a lost village means coastal erosion, no longer Viking longships full of men seeking new land to farm. CLP Read more
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on time
I remember, fifty years agoBus ride home from schoolFull heat of glowering sunFace flat against cool windowAsleep between stopsKaleidoscopic dreams confusingConversations of passengersWith people bouncing around my headWhite collar grey with sweatSo hot, stumbling to the stepsDown to the platformWatching the stop approachingStepping off as the bus pausedFinding my feet for the first time ~ Read more
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on the surface
everything serenesky of bluesea of greenrelief of breezebarely a cloudhorizon cleartake my handclimb aboardwe’ll chart a coursetake the wheelhead out to seawhere it will bedown to usto navigate a wayfor you and me~ CLP 05/09/2023 Read more
Journey of Words 