Monthly Archives: September 2013

The Year Wept

The year wept as it grew old

and my arm about her didn’t help

reminding her of the tentative

proddings of young seed, the

rampancy of Spring, the long

lush evenings of Summer, the

slow, sad slide of Autumn into

dead Winter.




It seems someone won
so I guess someone lost
leaving me losing my mind
remembering which side I was on.

Debris Field

Debris Field

I thought perhaps the
Moon had exploded soundlessly
somewhere beneath my horizon
leaving just this debris field to
fill the sky and
obscure the stars forever.

Fragments of Summer

Fragments of Summer

Fragments of Summer break free
fleeing the great
growling iceberg already
abrading the horizon

The Sow of Winter

The Sow of Winter

The sow of Winter
dangles its dugs
tempting us to suckle its
off-white, bitter milk.

Gin Genie

Gin Genie

As the long dry afternoons
crumble into dusk I hear the
cracks and groans of the Gin Genie
begging for release from her
lime-tinted ice-palace.

The Neighbourhood

It’s one of those clear, chill nights when it’s

hard to tell apart my breath, my

cigarette smoke and the haze of a

few billion stars.

Pelions Upon Ossa

My mother’s father was gassed at Ypres,

gasping to his early grave when we were

supposedly at peace and such

barbarity forever forbidden, but

two World Wars, fought now, would

sure be lost, so supine, so suspicious, so

fraught with fear have we become that

Hegemony would be total, the

Holocaust successfully concluded,

Pelions of additional dead piled forgotten on the

Ossa of those we pretend to remember yet

daily dishonour.



Written Thoughts, Spoken through verse...

Jupiter's Lair

Because a dirty mind is a terrible thing to waste...

A Quest for the Uncliche

Sharing my experiences of my quest for the uncliche, with the hope of learning more and inspiring some crazy soul in this overworked vacation deprived country..

Shreya Vikram

Blurring the lines between poetry and prose



Apollonia Saintclair

Ink is my Blood


Alla ricerca della scatola magica...

Diana Marin

Fine Art Photography, Poetry, Multimedia art, & Editorials

Rusted Honey

Poetry, haiku, tanka, and micropoetry

Turning the Lights Off

Random musings inside my head no matter how hard I try to shut the damn lights off