The mask of nonsense

“It’s complicated” posted this time last year proposed a point-blank assessment of The Relationship Drama, especially as recounted by heterosexual women (as this encompasses most of my experience). It’s the “He loves me, he loves me not, why doesn’t he love me?” tune. The poet/narrator declares, none of this is complicated. Either it moves forward,

A bicycle made for two (or, The Pitch)

While it’s going for a song, let’s play this dalliance. It’ll knock wind from our sails. That’s the hazard of entanglements. — Over the weekend I watched a movie about a song-writer. Many of the songs featured dreadful clichés. This prompted some fiddling of my own with clichés. The poem’s title is thanks to an

Little Knowing, a lonely desert bird

For some reason hymns, sermons and church architecture invigorate my creativity. Yet the result usually explores a counter-narrative, such as in “Just Punishment“, a poem written this time last year which re-imagines the scene of Proverbs 7. The standard interpretation of this chapter is that the pursuit of wanton desires results in people’s downfall. The femme fatale is an adulterous woman,

Advice for Love Chess

When I first posted this poem, it elicited some strong responses. “Blatant manipulation. Far better to say what you mean.” Ah! Love chess. — This poem, along with 24 others about life, love and the modern boy, are collected in my book Emily’s Poem for Modern Boys.

Every Sign of the Zodiac

The radio station holds a ‘phone-in about How to Seduce Every Sign of the Zodiac. Every star-sign, says the guest expert, has a romance silhouette. Taurus to Scorpio sound good. Pass on the Virgos and Cancerians. 22/12/13 — Anything to do with signs and symbolism pulls at my imagination. Just today I was thinking about

It’s complicated

Actually it’s very simple. Either it’s in motion or it is not. This bears the signs of not. That bears the signs of motion. Words to-ing and fro-ing And actions Everything bears the mask of nonsense. 13/1/14 — A liberating revelation in my younger youth was the concept of He’s Just Not That Into You

Just Punishment

Little Knowing, a lonely desert bird, was small and light of wing. Along the road he saw a woman. She smelled of cinnamon. “My bed,” she said, “smells of more – of myrrh and desert aloes. It is richly covered, soft – and ours – in colourful Egyptian linen.” Little knowing saw the tent to

I told her

I told her       Because modern boys ought to know the advice given   Hold out until Tuesday. You know you can. No public communication whatsoever. If necessary write it out. But do not send. (Especially, do not press send.) Sit on your hands, girl because you are waiting for move 5 in love chess.