There’s a field of sunflowers, fertilised with blood and bone that’s fallen from the sky. A forensic crop, to be scrutinised for every seed of truth; felled from on high. There’ll be a harvest of […]
… a sonneteer's journey (Tim Grace)
Tag: writing
Without You
I am nothing but myself without you. You are the key to every lock I own. To say you are my everything is true. Without you I am never more alone. You are my Spring, […]
Vagrant Wordsmith
A dispossessed poet has no address. Vagrant wordsmith finds himself lost for words. Sunday morning solitude. More or less a Waste Land. Quarters apportioned in thirds; fractional allotments… absurdities. Occupied tables, multiples of six, or […]
Banquet of Sound
A banquet of sound, black vinyl, white noise; orchestrated decibels, perfect pitch. Deconstructed platter, good taste, good poise; just desserts, justify a burning itch. A scratch which turns attention; an etude, a miscellaneous menu, so […]
A Cold Veneer
Mid-Winter, where I live, is wet and cold. The place is bedraggled. A season spent of warmth. A blanket of tarnished gold leaves. Fallen reminders. Disappointment. An inclement pallet in shades of grey. Overcast sky, […]
Unspoken Thoughts
There’ll be ample time to talk of wonders; but for now, you have the gift of eyes and ears. Silence speaks as loud as lightning thunders. Save those unspoken thoughts for coming years. As for […]
