Ask the Poet

In response to the questions often posed to me about my writing, I have decided to introduce a new feature on my blog: Please explain… Send in your questions about a particular poem, a running theme or even a line that puzzles you. If you’re curious about the creative process behind a poem’s existence, you mayContinue reading “Ask the Poet”

The Superhero of pre-used words

‘The Poet’ (a find from the archives) was composed from lines written on the tube after reading the freebie magazine The Short List: you’ll need to use me again tomorrow because our words are all pre-used but if you set me down in words and lines then published me I’m already seen and done cutting edge AContinue reading “The Superhero of pre-used words”

Poem 104

Escucha My new muse is light in his visits, is late, never calls, smiles his cheek, tells me nothing. So I invent everything. My new muse wears white-soled trainers and a St. Christopher tucked against the tattoo, never seen in full. When the night begins, the muse’s t-shirt smells of clean laundry. My new museContinue reading “Poem 104”

On this beach, I wish to see the end of time

I often write to capture moments that I have experienced in solitude. Consider for example the afternoon that produced this poem, “On a rock amongst rocks“. I had walked out beyond the beach of white sand to the rocky inlet beyond the seafront houses, the fishermen and the dog owners. Each day I used this landmark as the half-way point measureContinue reading “On this beach, I wish to see the end of time”

Nearing the End

The second-to-last exertion is not the rainbow. It is the to-and-fro flight of a raven clamped in darkness for 150 days. Let there be beats the raven’s wings Let there be beats the raven’s hope No land, raven. No release. Below yap choppy waves, corpses float and catch on broken trees. No release, raven. NoContinue reading “Nearing the End”

Behind the Brightness: Poems from a Mystical Decade

Shining in Brightness, my first book of selected poems, documents the hopeful years of 18 to 30. I hold a special affection for this creative scrapbook. It is a nostalgic artefact of a time period I declared ‘a mystical decade‘.

Reviewing the Pursuit

With the spit and fizz of fireworks, I clinked flutes of resolutions on a New Year’s Night. Now March, the ashes have blown away. — A week ago, I wrote about how my effervescent poetry-writing productivity has ebbed. Wail and gnash as I might, not much seems to be helping. In fact, strange circumstances haveContinue reading “Reviewing the Pursuit”

Interior Holdings

A turn to the inside, draws out liquorice laces, long and sweet to suck and chew; This turn to the inside locates in other corners of the paper-layered drawer small tacks of past stings — Scheduling a poem every day for a month (from 18 Jan. to 19 Feb.) made me feel impressively productive. NowContinue reading “Interior Holdings”

Degas’s Business Card

The truth-teller draws from a pocket the laminated slide of mm 85 x 55. You read – it turns pellucid. Through the foramen you see the blade that cuts a lover’s sup and dulled lime drunk alone in place of absinthe’s sleight of bliss. Here life ferments and the contact details for the artist sitContinue reading “Degas’s Business Card”

Kindly exit

at the door or retire through the window. That will suffice. Better yet, via my ears make your retreat as swiftly and in neat compactness as a ready ball of orange wax or next time I spit, roll out over my tongue. Or next when through my eyeball I aim a withering look, consider thatContinue reading “Kindly exit”