Posts Tagged ‘watching’

watching people go by
like rats in an
overground sewer
scurrying around
searching for their
next morsel of life

i watch people go by
like rats in an
overground sewer
scurrying here and there
searching for their
next morsel of life
to gorge themselves on


Posted: November 24, 2019 in poetry, Uncategorized
Tags: , , ,

the reflection of your face
on the surface of the canal
allows you to see your true self
if only for a second
before it floats away
into another world


Posted: November 12, 2016 in poem, poetry, Uncategorized
Tags: , , , , ,

she hears a noise
behind her
did she snap
that twig
or is there something
else in the woods
watching her…

gazing at reflections
in the mirrored glass
i could pause my life
whilst scrutinising
everybody else’s

The gate leans against the farmer

Digging into a sack of history

Stained with the smells of youth

That transparent, darkened raindrops

Have failed to fade into obscurity


Desperate to talk to the flesh of a dinosaur

Slowly rotting away under armour plated skin

Keeping out cold as bacteria thrives in warm flesh

Eating him alive, inside to out

Slowly killing him as time passes by


The gate watches, listening to the farmer

Sigh with nicotine filled lungs

Black with tar, a hole from no escape

Life is sucked in a one way passage

From this life to the next

one more drag on the tab

as it flickers and fades

into the cool sea mist

never to taste his breathe again

as the sea stumbles

onto the wet tongue of tarmac

free at last to pleasure itself

with the shop windows

swinging pub signs

alternating neon lights

those are all that remain

of the holiday makers

caravan movers

and summer shakers

have left for another year

leaving behind dreams of

love lost, love found, love unrequited

in the echoes of the shells that

creep slowly over grains of sand

that cling to each other as the

seaweed crawls over them

hoping to reach the neon lights

that glint off the beach

that can breathe again now

it is free of the pounding of feet

the slams of bodies

the digging of castles

and he watches through eyes

washed by the mist of the sea

as the signs sing in the breeze

to a promenade where nobody walks

except for the sea

and the darkness filters in

sharpen the edges of a

town that slumbers

and he lights another cigarette and

tastes the sea salt on his lips

as the gulls sing one last song