Identity


I am the reflection in the broken mirror
seven years bad luck but who’s counting?

I am the blood on bruised knuckles
as strong as iron yet easily washed away.

I am the nicotine stain on a finger
a small reminder of a lifetime together.

I am the abnormal cell in your lung
leaving you breathless with anticipation.

I am the person who looked closely at his belief
who easily picked out the lie.

Enjoy Word Stafford’s Poetic Vision Film


I’m very pleased to be featured in this marvelous video from the talented team at Word Stafford that was put together for National Poetry Day. The video features a selection of photos from talented local photographers and some amazing responses from poets about these pictures. Enjoy.

2020 Vision


When the TV preaches the world’s changed
you have to check out of your window,
yet no matter how carefully you look
nothing seems to have altered
in spite of all the media bleating,
you wonder if you’re looking hard enough.
Venturing outside warily
you observe a quiet new world
full of cautious people,
darting across muted roads
rather than cross your path.
So you scurry home to
renew an old acquaintanceship with indolence,
time to re-examine yourself
through the bottoms of empty bottles,
willing your inner flame to re-ignite
cautious of being burnt again.
Until you stir from your sofa of despondency
more albatross than phoenix
circling the world, observing,
squawking, unable to be heard
above the rising storm,
of failing and flailing leadership.
You settle on just looking,
looking for the reset button
looking for an exit strategy.
Looking at yourself
finding yourself wanting
normalcy.

 

It’s National Poetry Day here in the UK, this year the theme is vision, hence my look back on this strange year.