Mole

October 6, 2018 at 8:47 pm (Poems) (, , , )

  • The mole so blindly pushes dirt
  • To find the light. And oh, it hurt
  • To stand in darkness and in fear
  • Of losing heart: to be unclear
  • Of where to dig and plant my soul
  • I need a place to be a mole.
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Cut

July 14, 2013 at 8:43 pm (literature, Poems, poetry, Shropshire, sociology, Stories) (, , , )

At midnight precisely, the lights go out
and electric sound ceases its insistent buzz;
a confused housefly lands on my screen.
Instantly disconnected from my senses
my inner mouth makes an ‘O’.
I negotiate the stairs and
standing on tiptoe at the window
glimpse what I think is your candle,
but may be a distant car.

It takes fourteen minutes to adjust;
I fumble for a head torch,
the housefly gets excited and sits on its light.
I rejoice in the ticking of a clock
and check the fuses.
It has now been twenty three minutes,
my batteries are about to die,
it’s been fun, sort of,
but the pesky housefly,
grateful for reassurance, is dancing
annoying tangos with my words,
and soon we will both be
inescapably in the dark.

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