three untitled poems

I like
the transformative properties
of snow

the way
it obliterates
the boundary lines
we’ve laid down

road and pavement
path to garden
field from wood

and the way
it allows me to imagine
(in the hour or two before it melts
beneath the afternoon sun)
a world more open
than our own

All that is left now
is the absence of it

the outline
of where it once stood

the memory
of what it once was

the last few mounds of rubble
that no one’s found the time
to sweep away

These waves have been crashing
on indistinguishable shores
for a billion years
and will
for four billion more

__________

Notes:

1. Written in early 2018 sometime
2. Or maybe late 2017

__________

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a field of bonfires

a field of bonfires
generating the screams
that will help see us through the winter

__________

Notes:

1. Written on November 3rd, 2019

__________

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4/3/4 (anxiety suite)

#105:

haven’t felt right
all morning
woken from dream

***

#106:

something is wrong
with my heart
it aches, it aches

***

#107:

i need to cry
but i’m scared
i’ll never stop

***

#108:

not suicide
but instead
death by neglect

***

#109:

all i dream of
is to once
just be happy

***

#110:

anxiety
renders me
incapable

***

#111:

depressed depressed
depressed de
pressed depressed de

***

#112:

wasted a week
playing no
mans fucking sky

***

#113:

yes i am a
failure
of a human

***

#114:

i have begun
to lose my
whole fucking mind

***

#115:

my self laid bare
competence
is beyond me

***

#116:

i can’t keep my
heart beating
any longer

***

#117:

i cannot bring
myself to
believe you care

***

#118:

yes i could do
anything
if i weren’t me

***

#119:

a tiredness
creeping in
need something new

***

#120:

my teeth all buzz
as if they’re
electrified

***

#121:

imprecision
of language
a failing mind

***

#122:

i cannot write
anything
longer than this

***

#123:

one two three four
five six sev
en eight nine ten

***

#124:

i would blame this
on others
but it’s all me

***

#125:

the crows nested
in my heart
the worms, my mind

***

#126:

i like to sit
by the sea
dream of drowning

***

#127:

a small comfort
in the dream
as if its real

***

#128:

but then i wake
and somehow
its not the same

***

#129:

please forgive me
for my crimes
i’ve repented

***

#130:

i’m just not good
at any
thing at all

__________

Notes:

1. Written in September and October, 2019
2. Previous collections can be found here: #1; #2; #3; #4

__________

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4/3/4 (#4)

yet another
collection
of these poems

that aren’t really
poems at
all, now, are they

***

#79: spite, obduracy

the whole point of
this is that
it annoys you

***

#80: a failure of words

there is not a
clear way to
say this at all

***

#81: on pens #1

i don’t like this
pen but its
all i have left

***

#82: on pens #2

ink doesn’t flow
correctly
across the page

***

#83: on pens #3

scratching away
the paper
each word a scar

***

#84: on pens #4

left the lid off
ink’s gone dry
pen thrown in bin

***

#85: sufficiently advanced self-awareness is indistinguishable from self-pity

i do not like
who i am
even slightly

***

#86: on waking #3

my brain has shrunk
like a voles
in midwinter

***

#87: lost in a dream (variation #1)

lost in a dream
of a life
hazy, drifting

***

#88: lost in a dream (variation #2)

lost in a dream
of my own
constant failings

***

#89: lost in a dream (variation #3)

lost in a dream
of a world
unrecognised

***

#90: bird poem #1

seven egrets
in a row
still as statues

***

#91: bird poem #2

a thousand ducks
braced against
the winter wind

***

#92: bird poem #3

crow flying off
holding an
egg in its beak

***

#93: bird poem #4

the cormorant
dives below
gulls hover above

***

#94: bird poem #5

a swan’s feather
floating past
caught in the wind

***

#95: the coming end of the bird poem cycle

cat sauntering
across road
over the fence

***

#96: happiness

road black with rain
heavy boots
joy of puddles

***

#97:

the puddle fits
perfectly
in its own hole

***

#98: despair #1

made the mistake
of reading
twitter today

***

#99: despair #2

some people seem
to really
want civil war

***

#100: waiting for the doors #1

phone-lit faces
punctuate
the snaking queue

***

#101: waiting for the doors #2

cigarette smoke
matching breath
bring your own fog

***

#102: the end of the process

this little box
is full now
of written words

***

#103: a lifetime of regrets

so many words
i shouldn’t
ever have said

***

#104:

a perfect world
as silent
and still as snow

___________

Notes:

1. Written in September and October 2019
2. The three previous collections of 4/3/4 poems can be found here, here and here
3. Bird poem #3 was actually based on a misidentification
4. And it was a walnut in the crow’s beak
5. rather than an egg
6. I disocvered this yesterday, when a crow dropped a walnut on the road in front of me
7. from it’s perch on the roof of the house
8. trying to crack it
9. but failing.
10. But then I noticed that the whole road was littered with walnut shell shrapnel
11. pleasing proof of their eventual success

__________

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Tale #77: The Wolf And The Girl

The wolf watched as the girl came near
And the wolf waited as the girl roamed far
And the wolf pounced when her parents came looking

The wolf ate, the girl ate
And away they went together
Blood red lips, teeth as sharp as lies

__________

Notes:

1. Written on November 3rd, 2016

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