Tag: Poetry

Swindon

 

If anyone can

tell me what the hell’s going

on here, please could they

 

by Scooj

 

Making waves

 

Autumn waves crash on

tiled floors, a terrarium

for urban living

 

by Scooj

Piper

 

Penny whistle man

playing for a few coppers

and humanity

 

by Scooj

S.O.S.

 

Secretary of

State for the environment,

I don’t believe you.

 

by Scooj

Commentary on a speech made by Elizabeth Truss on 14 October, entitled Open Environment.

6.15pm

 

Dusk comes early now

and bats flutter, fattening

for Winter slumber.

 

by Scooj

Bondage

 

I sit in front of

my screen, deprived of freedom;

I’ll let my mind walk

 

by Scooj

Cloud spirit

 

Now in the morning

chill my exhalations dance

in front of my eyes

 

by Scooj

Clement

 

A blocking high sits

obligingly overhead

warming Autumn hearts.

 

by Scooj

On becoming a hobbit

 

As my days get short

the hair in my ears grows with

alarming vigour.

 

by Scooj

Groundrush

 

Does it matter at

all that the house is a mess

when builders begin?

 

by Scooj