Journey of Words

Tag: Poetry

  • On Numbers 530

    It doesn’t matter how many yards it is there if it’s the wrong way ~ n.b. The old English game of twisting signposts around, or even removing them in case any odd foreign types think of invading, continues. I think some of us are beginning to realise that the reason these islands have not been →

  • On Numbers 20

    There is a limit But please, don’t worry yourself Nobody’s counting ~ n.b. Of late the UK speed limit signs have become absolutely pointless pieces of street furniture, unless you consider them to be essential props in the black humour of the living art installation that is Brexit Britain. ~ CLP 21/10/2020 →

  • On Numbers 2

    Is this what you get When splitting one evenly Or what becomes one? ~ Factors or products? You choose. CLP 20/10/2020 →

  • On Numbers 5

    Leaves, starfish, fingers Five is a magic number One of the many. ~ Odd isn’t it, five? Or should we count the stalk, the wrist, the foot? Then it’s six and even. ~ CLP 19/10/2020 →

  • On Trees

    Your towel is slipping Each breath of cool breeze reveals Stark inner beauty ~ CLP 19/10/2020 →

  • Revealing

    Is it safe to ask? he asked Ask what? she asked. You know he said. You’ve lost me there, she sighed. ~ She had hoped for something more direct; straight-forward, clear But what she heard, was what she feared So with his faint words He lost her there. ~ CLP 17/10/2020 →

  • On Wilful Ignorance

    Without symptoms Does not mean without virus Don’t think otherwise ~ n.b. Familiarity breeds contempt – sometimes phrased as “loosening inhibitions.” Consent for any form of physical contact is not just a courtesy. A show of affection may be the kiss of death. No excuses. There may not be a second chance. ~ CLP 18/10/2020 →

  • On the Surface vi

    Talk flows naturally Everything seems as it should. What’s been left unsaid? ~ n.b. Is life too short to cover everything one needs to talk about? ~ CLP 17/10/2020 →

  • From the Street

    Slurred songs echo up Drinking woman sits on path Where will her night end? ~ n.b. It’s only just turned 20:00h on a Saturday evening. It’s cold, damp, dark. She pauses her songs occasionally to bait a passer by. ~ CLP 17/10/2020 →

  • On the Surface v

    Lumps and hummocks rise Above East Anglian towns But not high enough ~ n.b. An old radar tower, from the Second World War, or the Cold War, is now used to distribute wireless and mobile telephone signals. At around 110m high, this tower is as tall as a football pitch is long. It is an →