(1)
leaves of litter
mask the beauty
of this town
(2)
the brown
bruised banana
burst
(3)
ascending steep
sharp fog
dew infuses sweat
(4)
descending Snowdon
we swam in love
under waterfalls
(5)
man, a
semi-sentient
food bin
(6)
running through
Welsh towns
gathering masked smiles
(7)
the spider the fly
and me, have
not paid our rent
(8)
grinded teeth
on stressful nights
heal throughout the day
(9)
twitching fly
has missed
her train
A collection of Haikus written between July and August 2021. These poems are written in the Jack Kerouac ‘American Haiku’ type – ignoring syllable count. American Haikus' aim to paint a picture in three short sentences.
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The Din
i haven't heard silence since i was seven years old. tinnitus began for me after a school disco, a night of which i only have one memory, 500 miles by the proclaimers blaring at full volume in my tiny child brain, leaving it permanently marred. and there i was again in a crowd of people with my own mind screaming internally, earplugs lost to the dirty layer of drink-spat-sweat that was the club floor. but I was gone. staring up at the red flashing light, a falling sensation running through all of me, my body falling in on itself and then through the floor, like a dream I had had as a child of falling and falling and falling through infinity, after my mum told me i would go to heaven and live forever, a terrified thought that haunts. a grab of my arm from livs sister and she was in the infinite coma with me, i asked if she was alright and she told me id already asked her that three times and that they were going outside to smoke - and was i coming - and i was coming. a round ginger-bearded ginger man sat next to me on the concrete, and told me that he loved the planet, i explained that i wanted to build wide planet saving wind turbines to save the planet that he loved, as if putting up one of my turbines would be the moment of final restoration for the world. we chatted more shit, after being witness to our rambling conversation for too long it was liv that was longing for warm nirvanic silence. i got up and kissed liv and told her i loved her because i did, she hurried me back into the din
By Alastair Davie3 years ago in Poets
Gossamer
"Murray! Wake up!" He loved that period between waking and dreaming. To him, it was like entering another dimension; more of a dreamscape than dreaming itself. There was an otherness to it that he wanted to grasp and yet deeply respected the fact that it could never be his totally. This is what gossamer was; flighty and light, a wisp of smokiness, an idea suggested but not fully revealed, a slit in cloth, a copse in the wood.
By Rachel Deeming5 days ago in Fiction
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