- Books, Literature, and Writing
Returning from living six months in a small coastal desert town in Saudi Arabia, a roundabout outside London's Gatwick airport seemed like the Amazon jungle, so green, so lush. The emptiness of the desert was spiritual. A place to go mad. A place to feel the real size of the earth. The desert was also like most things, diverse and changing. Dunes, yes, but not Lawrence of Arabia dunes, but rock strewn, gravelly, stoney, rubbish strewn, pristine, with different colours, ugly and beautiful. We crave the sun. They crave the rain. We all crave the other.
to sit in tents and smoke and chat and drink endless tea
to break fast triggered by a distant call
to stand before the open land and know the breadth of sky
to measure the smallness of man in the emptiness
to see a shamal hang a pall of sand and smother the world
to see the desert drink a little rain shoot sprouts of green
to watch mile after mile of emptiness unroll
to see the edge of town in a road that ends
to open your door to scorched air
to watch the gecko flick its tail across the wall
to breathe the desert air sucked dry across a million dunes
is to reach the oasis of God’s infinite arm
- Inspiration - a poem
the tapestry of your body from socks to halo is woven in heart and soul you are hidden seams of gold in barren landfills and dormant seeds in unploughed dirt you unveil the skys demeanour to ...
I first saw the photographs of Alfred Eisenstaedt in a museum in Johannesburg. I was stunned. Goebbels, Mussolini, Sophia Loren, Winston Churchill, T.S.Eliot, Somerset Maugham, children in the East End of...
- Body chords - a poem
Body chords shuffle the chords round the torniquet a shrinking heartbeat drains our souls a song rises between the ribs lain by hands turned away by life the music sings in a vein of blood ...
- Racehorse - a poem
Your eyes are black and wild Your body is taut and perfect as Roman sculpture The animal is born to run You dance in the paddock Anxious to be the thing you are Your nostrils flare as if breathing...
- London - poems
These two poems were on a previous hub of four poems (Poems with no home) but I thought it was more logical to separate them by theme (vaguely). London take me back to that place where faces are only...
- Poems with no home
Have had poems lying dormant on my hard drive. They needed a home, so I've moved them here. I can never decide whether I like my poems or not! If you read them I hope you like them. Three poems made...