All Unsaved Changes Will Be Lost She moves the cursor to the upper right corner,searching until she finds the way out,that red cross that will free herand she prepares herself,steadies.The message comes, as she knew it would.‘All unsaved changes will be lost.’She knows it’s a warning(or perhaps a threat?)but within it,hidden under the layers of … Continue reading Poetry #13 – All Unsaved Changes Will Be Lost
The Tormentor’s Delight There’s a darkness below and only a cold expanse aboveand here I stand waitingbut lacking the wings of a dove.I share only my colour with that bird, become a symbol of peacefor a crippling sickness shakes my bodyand my life has been leasedto the cheapest of investors who holds me captive right … Continue reading Poetry #12 – The Tormentor’s Delight
Gardens of Ink There’s a trend of lateThat drives people mad with green fingers.They sow and sit.They cut and clip.They admire and accentuate.Soon their rooms are aflood with plantsAnd their overhanging limbsLie like a trap across the floor. But the author’s brew is quite the contrary.Fingers are stained black by ink,Perhaps red with revisions,And they … Continue reading Poetry #11 – Gardens of Ink
All Things Pass As lockdown lingerswe stop againready to start againand we look forward to the unknownthat we now know so well.Before there wasfear, terror, nervousness.But now?Now there is an electric senseof desperate anticipationand so we waitlost in the complexities of our boredomfor all things pass.
Who Will Take Note? Who notices the quiet wind,The constant wind behind the gust?Who notices that gentle windThat fills the air with fragrant dust? Who notices the lingering light,The light that even the moon provides?Who notices the darkest lightThat ignores our solar-lunar divides? Who notices the taste of air,The taste that is the taste of … Continue reading Poetry #9 – Who Will Take Note?
Who Is This Storm? Trapped in my room,My head remains confinedBut my eyes and mind,Longing to be free from their bindWander past the windowpaneAnd I watch the continual downpourOn the stone mountains across the fieldAs rain weathers rockRelentlessly reducing royalty to rubbleAs the minutes gently passAnd I watch the continual downpourOn the frostbitten fieldsWhich have … Continue reading Poetry #8 – Who is This Storm?
Why? Why. Why is a question I ask myself a lot. It's a single word that leads me downdarker paths,brighter paths,longer pathsshorter paths. It's a word I hatefor it's day to day applicationsbut a word that makes me who I am. Curiosity is dangerous,lack of curiosity,even more so.
Lonely Dwarf They call you dwarf and I wonder if it’s not a reference to your size so much as a term of respect. Oldest of all, your experience surely dwarfs all others and your brightness is second to none. What is left, after all, once you have burned so bright, been a beacon for … Continue reading Poetry #6 – Lonely Dwarf
The Universe at Pompei And The Universe looked upon all they had created, These little people, These transient specks which would soon pass out of focus, And it marvelled at their achievement. Scarcely had it thought that such beings, Such minor notes in time’s opera, Could have come so far As to have clusters of … Continue reading Poetry #5 – The Universe at Pompei
Direct Current I’m an electron on a track, trapped in a cage, millimetres thin, as long as you like but I’ll only ever move if I’m going in a circle. There are obstacles on my path, the narrowing claustrophobia of resistance, the infinite gap of capacitance, and the longer we run next to one another, … Continue reading Poetry #4 – Direct Current
Curio-scify 