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This weekend, in celebration of the site’s first 90 days, collected here, are the most popular poems published so far on the site.
If this is the first time you have heard of the site, welcome; you’ve picked a great time to drop by…
To all those who have liked, commented, or indeed follow, I’d like to say thank you for your support and interest in the site and my work.
If anybody does happen to have any suggestions about the site, say for example “I wish you would share the stories behind the poems more” etc… Please do share, and for my part I promise to consider each every suggestion with the seriousness with which it was intended 🙂
So here is a flutter through my work…
The Far Wanderer
Wandering the ward…
Looking for something…
Muttering to herself…
Asking all who passed,
But, she was not heard…
“Have you seen my baby ?”
Such a shame, so disturbed…
And as for the baby ?
Taken long ago,
That’s what I heard…
Wandering the ward…
Surrounded by ‘normals’
Who never asked why,
She was hurt…
“Métis… Tiresias… Blake… Swedenborg…Elizabeth… Victoria…should we mention Basil ?”
Tea for Who ?
He held the cup with both his hands,
“If I drop this, would it scream?”
“Would it feel a pain and break?”
“And would I grip my face to stop?”
“It too may break, or it may not…”
And so he said…
“We two are through !”
And placed his cup, between the two.
She grabbed the cup,
And with it struck,
Back and forth, back and forth,
Then with a final ungodly hurl,
Smashed and smashed,
The lofty temple of his inner world.
Some time after he viewed his scars,
For he was vain like some men are.
Writing a letter, to the cause of his pain…
“You” he ranted, “You The Page !”
“…And your last word insanity to dominate,”
“Lead me to believe;”
“This would never again…”
“You and your plans;”
“Are but pulp !” he raged
“When put to the test;”
“Of tears and rain.”
“You do not feel,
You do not rage !”
“Know your place,
know your shame !”
“We two are finished, I shall not…
No damn it, not again.”
Then sometime after so read the page…
The question of who serves who,
Neither could write nor say…
The price of daily returning to the same reminding,
Youthful ink stains.
“Circe offering the cup to Odysseus”
John William Waterhouse
Please note: all images have been produced, including the blog itself only through the use of an Ipod Touch.