2017-04-15 13.39.13-1You have to build your difference, they say.
You are divided for love.
But I don’t know who you are.
Do you know who I am?
I can feel your fingers reaching out to me,
so close to having material form it hurts
like an unstruck sound in my heart.

You are surely a reflection,
but when I look for you in the mirror
the only me there is I.
I project the idea onto all of my lovers,
trying to understand the shape of you,
then when they are gone, I retract you
back into the darkness of shadow.

I saw you in the theatre last night.
Three stages, three shows, three facets of you.
I danced with each in my dreams.
You had raw, bleeding knees from the crawl;
an attempt to save yourself from fiction, no doubt.
But one tug on my necklace, one cry from within
and I knew the fall was real.


Like Osiris

How do I write you?

Your essence is somewhere

between the scribbled words

on the mountains

of screwed up paper sheets

in which I nest.

Are you a jigsaw?

I try a word from one attempt

with a sentence from another

to draft a new layout,

an alternative frame;

but still I can’t complete you.

Like Osiris, you are in fragments.

Abstract Expressionism: A Poetic Response


I went to see the Abstract Expressionism exhibition that is currently showing at the Royal Academy of Arts. I find art exhibitions great for putting musings into perspective, and I have a particular love for abstract works because they offer something that bit more open to interpretation. Out of habit perhaps, I take a sketchbook with me. It’s what I was taught to do in art class, but I never really understood what I was supposed to be drawing. You see, my art is depictions of things that are inside, never objects from the exterior world, and I struggle to feel creative when sketching from life. But I do want to get that response down, that raw inspiration and mental illumination that happens when I react to a piece of artwork. So this time I spontaneously decided to make a written response to what I was seeing, and I did this without reading the accompanying information bites until afterwards to prevent my thoughts being influenced by ‘what you are supposed to think’. Here are some of the things I wrote.

Continue reading “Abstract Expressionism: A Poetic Response”

I am Shotgun


Out of the post blue
I am shotgun
At your side

We are forever entangled
Though we never speak
Of the oath we once took
It just is

A constant companion
In the back seat
It is no longer armed
But we still allow it
To hijack us

Across the uneven
Ground we go
For days at a time
Far from other souls

This is dry land
There is no nourishment
But we come anyway

And then we go
Until the next time
I am shotgun