Featured Image Above:In the last light of day, even a weakened sun can show how much of our shared humanity has slipped away.
Hello, dear readers and followers. I contribute to Coffee House Writers magazine (USA) every second week, and I’m delighted to share that my latest poem,“A Fistful of Sand,” appears in the new issue. You can read it by following the link below. >> A Fistful of Sand – Coffee House Writers
Today’s Throwback Friday poem (originally written in May 2023) is drawn from my upcoming book, Time Hears No Sound. It appears as the opening poem in Chapter 8, War: A Waste of Time
“And I have carried on this war. Though no one wins an endless fight. I have claimed that God has guided me. And killed to prove I’m right.” Lyrics from Damien Rice’s song, “What if I’m wrong.”
Between Lines, Who Holds the Power
Do you see – a man walking on water? Did you see – his feet were bleeding? Do you read – the missing scriptures? Did you read – your own family tree? Do you hear, speechless angels, singing? Did you hear – the songbirds crying?
Do you feel – the erased wars calling? Did you feel – the hard rains falling? Do you know – the ones who are lying? Did you know, the refugees are dying?
“What If I’m Wrong”, Lyrics, by Damien Rice
I could wrestle with tomorrow Until tomorrow’s in the past Because I have torn apart what’s beautiful To prove that nothing lasts I have stayed locked behind these doors To show there’s no way out I got lost within the space between The question and the doubt I have built a wall between
What I believed and what is true I have sacrificed the love I had For power over you
I have convicted those who disagree And walked over the weak I have placed a gun within the mouth Of those who dared to speak
And on an ordinary day In an ordinary way I have crushed the minds of children With extraordinary shame
And I have carried on this war Though no one wins an endless fight I have claimed that God has guided me And killed to prove I’m right
What if I’m wrong What if I’m wrong What if I’m wrong What if I’m wrong
Is this soul worth saving at all? Cause if I lose my wings then surely I must fall And the gods prayed to the gods they made
We could wrestle with tomorrow until tomorrow’s in the past We could tear apart what’s beautiful To prove that nothing lasts
We could stay locked behind the doors To show there’s no way out We could get lost within the space between The question and the doubt
Featured Image Above: is of my silver teaspoon with the initials “MS” (Multiple Sclerosis) embossed on the handle button.
Hello, dear readers and followers. I contribute to Coffee House Writers magazine (USA) every second week, and I’m delighted to share that my latest poem,“Between, Inside, and Beyond,” appears in the new issue. You can read it by following the link below. >> Between, Inside, and Beyond – Coffee House Writers
Today’s Throwback Friday poem (originally written in June 2023) is drawn from my upcoming book, Time Hears No Sound. It appears as the second poem in Chapter 11, Poetry in Slow Motion: Who’s Keeping Time.
“Down to the Valley” was written on a day when I strayed from the usual path, letting the landscape guide the poem. It’s a small journey into the unexpected, where nature and recollection meet.
Down To the Valley
Roaming. Off the beaten track Over sagged wire fences Through plowed fields Down to the valley below Where sunflowers grow
Detouring. Across the babbling brook Toward the castle of broken glass Cocooned together in woven grass Until time awakens the past
Featured Image by Julius H. from Pixabay(From Eugi’s Prompt Site)
Today’s Throwback Friday poem (originally written in June 2025) is drawn from my upcoming book, Time Hears No Sound. It appears as the second poem in the Epigram section of Chapter 10, Time’s Short Poems: Haiku, Tanka, etc.
Throwing back to a poem that reminded me how even small things, like snowflakes, can ease old heartaches.
Cascading Snowflakes (an Epigram)
With every breath we take After our weary eyes awake The existence of daybreak Appeases our heartaches As cascading, soft snowflakes Gently flow over our old keepsakes
Featured Image Above:The Colour of the Dawn Sky Above the Western Horizon
Hello, dear readers and followers. I contribute to Coffee House Writers magazine (USA) every second week, and I’m delighted to share that my latest poem,“Dawn’s Symphony of Light (a Tanka),” appears in the new issue. You can read it by following the link below. >> https://coffeehousewriters.com/dawns-symphony-of-light/
Yesterday’s sky felt like it was tuning itself for morning — colours rising, shadows softening, the world humming awake. Today, this Tanka arrived, and Osibisa’s ‘The Dawn’ felt like the perfect companion.”
Featured Image Above: Created by Copilot and me, A man stands at the edge of time, where the foreshore fades, and the door to the encore glows.
Today’s Throwback Friday poem (originally written in January 2024) is drawn from my upcoming book, Time Hears No Sound. It appears as the opening poem in the Micri Poem section of Chapter 10, Time’s Short Poems: Haiku, Tanka, etc.
The Last Encore
I am standing on the diminishing foreshore Staring at that missing ground floor “Like there was a door” Between here and the last encore
And so we stand, between here and the last encore — listening for time’s quiet applause.
Today’s Throwback Friday poem (originally written in January 2024) is drawn from my upcoming book, Time Hears No Sound. It appears as the second poem in the Musette section of Chapter 10, Time’s Short Poems: Haiku, Tanka, etc. I find the Musette’s restrictive poetry format to be very challenging AMusette is, three verses first line – 2 syllables second line – 4 syllables third line – 2 syllables rhyme scheme – a/b/a c/d/c e/f/e The title reflects the poem’s content
Hello, dear readers and followers. I contribute to Coffee House Writers magazine (USA) every second week, and I’m delighted to share that my latest poem,“Beyond My Outpost,” appears in the new issue. You can read it by following the link below. >> https://coffeehousewriters.com/beyond-my-outpost/
“Peace is not something you wish for; it’s something you make, something you do, something you are, and something you give away.” — John Lennon
“When doors close, and wars roar, let peace be the key we choose to turn.”
Today’s Throwback Friday poem (originally written in March 2024) is drawn from my upcoming book, Time Hears No Sound. It appears as the third poem in Chapter 8, War: A Waste of Time
Are All the Doors Closed?
Scores of uncultured doors Closed pores of the old stores Hiding drawers of past accords The forgotten ardours of wise mentors
Now, just condescending decors to the new wars Like cantankerous dinosaurs with itchy bedsores
Ivor.Plumber/Poet 