Experimental :: The Poet Sits

At feet, I wait
one moment’s chance;
hands on belief.
Maybe, I could
attain these heights:
small brilliance that
he holds, to see.

Look up, with hope
for confidence
within a heart
too scared to beat.
Might pass me
wisdom’s gift, distilled
chipped from a soul
of artistry.

Then comes a spark,
awareness blooms,
from too long spent
in darkened rooms.
No need for this
to validate, a life
that’s mine to own,
path I walk alone.

The poet sits
no longer awed,
as mentor moves
no need to grasp.
Perhaps it’s time;
stand tall, ignore
the need to feel
beholden, tied.

Experimental :: In Your Dreams

In my dreams, I was your wife
Picture perfect imitation.
Here, domestic servitude:
with no desire for anything
but pleasuring a life,
with nothing less but attitude.

Your perfect body taunted
All I did was stare, not touching.
Desire: staggered, overwhelmed
far too much, and when it came to
adult time, I panicked
waking in bed, alone and sad.

I’ll never be your lover
It doesn’t really matter now.
Depth of your duplicity
is something I find harrowing;
need to taste narrowing,
no call for adult time, go home.

My dreams are my own business
Stimulus summarily, ceased.
I can play with myself here
with no abuse, I’m in the clear,
take pointless excuses:
in the end, happier alone.

Experiment IV

There’s not enough risk-taking in my CV of late, and so, starting next Monday (26th) until I either run out of ideas or get bored, I will be providing some experiments in words. It might be a stream of consciousness, or it could be some odd poetic snatches based on current events or the dreams I had the night before. It will be a way for me to stick imagination into the mix for the first time, and be a bit less predictable.

Urban Farming Today

I started doing this last year, but organisation and the need for a consistent stream of content ended up curtailing the process. Now, I feel it is the perfect time for it to return.

Watch this space on Monday going forward, and see what I come up with.