Category: Poetry
Complacence
At this juncture of unprecedented uncertainties we need bold positive mindset, spend quantifiable time for self. Self-care & satisfaction at every nook our ‘new normal’ life, which is nowhere selfish act. Muse on.. Complacence I’m in competition with myself, and have no Desire To be greater than anyone anymore. I’m simply trying to be easier and better What I was
» Read moretea with a friend
come visit soon we will drink green tea from translucent china no need to talk much we’ll show photos of our children’s children you’ll take mine across to your wedding day demob suit husband for his approval I’ll smile at yours ‘two cubes or one?’ ‘one, I’m sweet enough’ ‘yes, you are’ ‘let’s sit in the
» Read moretorch song
torch song when winter comes and living stutters light a guiding lamp and I will find my way age or the grave cannot prevent us – together we shall rise maybe we will sing of willow riverbanks beside fields of meadow flowers rejoicing at the refreshingment of gentle rain wave-soaked barnacle rocks and gulls sea shores, sea shells,
» Read moreall flesh is as grass
the corduroy grey resting in a chair beside the pond sighed pointing to a clump wilting in baked earth ‘those are crying out for water the tap’s by the door… the watering can… would you mind?’ ‘will I top up the bird feed?’ ‘you’re very kind’ he waved toward the overgrowth, ‘I thought I
» Read moredreamin’ of better days
we’ll go to Whitby, rent a sea-view fisherman’s cottage stay for the weekend, take a taxi up to the Abbey (slow and easy down those steps) plat du jour, in Church Street, say? and after? browse jewellers buy a necklace of Whitby jet
» Read moreHearing Voices
Being Mistaken for an Art Installation
Warehouse gallery, evening. Strange girl heaps two slug-plump lines. The eternal waltzer swirls. Faces stretch. Time cracks and shines. I writhe and swim on the floor among spray-painted designs. Cameras click, flash. I return. “That’s cool!” a critic opines. https://alfieshoyger.blogspot.com
» Read moreDissociative Love
Such hair, such springy marmalade hair, such arctic skin, such North Sea eyes, breasts to slaughter Vikings for, such breasts, such fertile vulpine thighs I’ve craved for months, all now crouch down by frying pan and library card. Two snowy trails. A Guernsey banknote. Zonk! The material world is barred. Zonk! We’re skating, disembodied, along the pipes of the
» Read moreCopyright
Even if I write smallest of poems I have to copyright them. Wonder who brought those Stones on the steepest of mountains, Who made those monuments?
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