Poems

Means, and Ends

For Manchester, a new poem. –//– Click here to receive updates, and hear first about new projects

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‘Dervish at the Door’ | Farage and His Tired Jokes

‘We haggle and make jokes, to keep what we own for ourselves’ This poem by Jelaluddin Rumi (1207 – 1273) speaks rather beautifully, I think, to a picture of modern Britain these past few days, to our too-often selfish and soulless relationship to those who have come to our borders in need. ‘A deserted place.’ Sterile.

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New Poem: Kindling

Thoughts after storms.   –//– Click here to receive updates, and hear first about new projects

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Stillness Is Coming | National Poetry Day

My dear friend Nic died a year ago on Monday. Missed so much. This, on National Poetry Day, for him.   Stillness A year in has not stopped our yearning, this anno domini we know dominates; still, stillness is coming. Your stilling broke levees of such Orlean, Orwellian turbulence rising angry Leviathan against this awful

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Update | Rooks

Thought it might be worth posting an update here to say…that there may not be many updates here. I’m currently focusing hard on some new writing work, a piece of long fiction, so will be probably posting here less, unless it’s going badly, in which case I’ll be procrastinating right here. I spent the last

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New Poem: Blue

Blue The far sky the deep night the deep ocean deep throat the sound of sadness the colour of elsewhere the damned hue within that will not out. (c) KB 2013   Radiolab on lack of blue in any ancient texts here; Charlie Byrd playing ‘Blues for Night People’ here; Still no one can tell me why it’s called ‘the

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Five Verses on Fatherhood

A new poem for Father’s Day. Da. Da A-Ba you our first attempts at speech you our desire to reach up in words and in words speak worlds into being. Daddy? A question too often with no reply speaking into absence empty rooms closed doors or nailed-down lids. The heavy cloak each prodigal is given

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New Poem: Park

Park They will come here all of them in different groups and all of them do what they shouldn’t ………………………….like smoke on benches let dogs run wild climb up slides and push. This is the park where, on common ground through uncommon years we take our turns and rebel.   © KB 2013   Was in

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Poem for Maggie

Dear Maggie if people cared less about your passing or felt less willing to pay for your parade this too was what you did to us. And if people turn backs or appear a little harsh and cruel then remember, iron lady this caring less this selfishness was you. So let the pomp begin and

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