Here’s a new poem (first one in ages actually!) that breaks down a few things I’ve been struggling with recently.
Fresh steam, bubbling on
A chest that feels white hot
Cos the chemical reactions have finally
Snap, crackle, stopped.
And what you thought of as molten metal
Coalesces into something it is not,
Drip by drip by drip by drop.
You watch it cool like morning dew,
And what can you do when
Breton lace turns into morning frost?
I know where I am, but I feel so lost,
My pen is still, page is empty
Can’t join the dots.
I was strong as glass up until
The slowing train, the juddering stop
Catch your breath, now get off
It’s the end of the line and that’s your lot.
If you should be so lucky
To enjoy a second-wind inhalation –
Even after the wobbling vibration
Of a centrifugal force
Has pushed your whole world off course –
Then make the most of it!
Savour the flavour of lovers
Old, borrowed and new
And try to remember
In everything you do
That light is day and dark is night
That right isn’t left,
But what’s left is what’s right.
Stories On The Sofa 