Circus Stowaways

I did the balancing act

Whilst you stood below

A net made of embraces and morning kisses

I was too scared to look down

For the longest of times

Trying to keep it up

Ignoring the tainted vertigo

That like hemlock

Spread throughout

Paralysing my body.

But you ensured that I stayed dazzling

So that when I felt myself falling

I was instead just cartwheeling

Proving the impossible

On that thin wire

That like puppeteer strings

Ensured the final snipping

By those three desolate Fates.

And when I did fall

I did it with grace

Tumbling, feet pointed

A smile still painted on my face

We were circus stowaways

Secretive and perfect in our audacity

As I landed safely in your arms…

… We bowed as they gave their applause.



Painting; High Wire Acrobat by Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec


Fisherman’s Pier

Dragonflies skid along the marshland

Which foams every shade of topaz

Ripples that make the water dance

As though the stream

Has something to laugh at.

I’m in the fisherman’s domain

Sitting coyly

Observing in the rain.

It’s overcast

Grey shades which paints

A sombre background

For the barges rage

Spitting smoke

Making its presence known

But nature dapples the banks

Painting it every shade of summer lax

Mustard yellows

And vivacious fuchsias

Beautifully composing

A symphony of rustles in the wind

Transporting me to a different world

Even if only momentarily.




Artwork by Dee Evans see more here;


Skin & Bone



A jigsaw of genes


We take it all in our strife.


Human beings

Imaginary and as alien

As the moons and the worlds above.

Skin and bone

Bound by gravity

Prisoners of this world

Take my money

Take my will.


Freedom is a false finders game

A concept we all claim

Governments, parties

Mere pawns

In  someone else’s bigger picture frame.


We live in the past

But never learn from past mistakes

Another dictator

Another deprived nation

It never changes

We’re never in the present

Instead we focus

On the future

And the imprints that will last.

A cynic I am, I know,

But morals? Ethics?

Who really knows,

Who the hell is actually running this show?!

Pull the strings, mimic the voice,

At the end of the day

We’re nothing more

Than skin and bone.



Hidden Treasures


On a lonely island

Surrounded by lifeboats

But nobody cared I was drowning.

Stories appeared

Written in the sand

Whispers repeated through the centuries

Of shadows that surrounded me

The superstitions bombarding

I tell myself

Not to conform to my minds trickery

To grin until it hurts

So I dug a little deeper

And made my own shelter

And they crept a little closer

To the coast before me

But I no longer cared to see

Because in the end

When the war is over

Happiness will be there

Buried beneath

My own hidden treasures

For me to find

And for me alone to keep.




Artwork by Rachel Christine Nowick

After Thoughts

Falling for so long

Past the sunrise

Into dark

Ignoring every sign we pass

Missing every mark

On the dartboard–

And therefore every chance.


And if we’d only lifted up our heads

Brushed away the tears

Shrugged off the dread

Found ourselves in the swarm of bees

Raised our voices above the din

Then maybe these smiles would be genuine.


And we all know the story

The fable since time  begun.

That we’re not everlasting

But this youth has me feeling young

In these moments with these eyes

This mouth speaking the words you despise.


“I will never change,”

Like the sun in the sky and the moons

That revolve around it

This power is mine to take

And I demand it.


If we’d only turned the key

Stepped into the unknown

Forced ourselves out of the shell

That we retreated inside of

Then maybe we would see

The glow of the halo’s that were always there

Just hidden away, out of sight,


Maybe then you wouldn’t think about it any more

But you were a little too late,

Hopefully a lesson learnt,

Never treat me as a mere after thought.




Glued together, swaying,

Congealing, unconvincing,

A hot tepid mess.

You don’t know where one ends

And the other one starts


Bare and together

Sharing body heat

Sharing saliva


Amongst a sea

Of silhouetted

Slimy shadows

All beating together

To create a giant heart

Making the club come alive.



White Mist

Blurred locations

That fly by

One by one

Never settling

A consistent constancy

Other than the white mist

A delicate haze

That cloaks the country

A quiet ghost

Which masks the impurities

Outlines without details

Alike a half finished painting

It feels ethereal

With the blazing lamp posts

Doubling as willow-the-wisps

And the bare February trees

Disguised as skeletal figures

Their long limps stretching outwards

Alike the yawning man behind me

As we travel through

This changed land.




A/N: Quite an old one that I found in a notebook that I thought I might as well upload. Thank you for reading! 🙂



Saltwater Tears

They wash away two years of pain,

Like a message in the sand

Fragile and cleansing

They remind where the pain is

Trickling and trailing

A river flows from my numb eyes

And lands on my hands

The guilt is ignited

A fire in my heart

Which reaches boiling point

Making my cheeks glow with shame.

Two years…

A nice memory

And some bad memories

Which like a family photo album

Gets passed around the council

In my head

It blurs by and I grimace

The saltwater tears

Can’t wash away those times

Or put out the fire

That will eventually

Corrupt me inside.





Neck craned

Feet lolled


The music acts

As a backing track

As I sit here

A mere observer

And sculpt your face,

Eyes, ears, nose and flesh

With my pen

The way your eyelashes

Arm your eyelids

Like rays of sunshine

The light of which

Your dark conker eyes hold

The trapped orb reflected from your phone

You lie in a heap on the floor

Amongst the ruins of my room

From which you, like a Phoenix

Rise your mountainous legs to rest

On the edge of the bed.

Triumphant amongst the mess of clothes,

Pencil shavings et al. that our antics caused.




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