Now to myself this comes as some surprise I’m sitting writing here a tuneless song My rusty hand’s in need of exercise For I’ve been far too lazy for too long In honeyed indolence I’ve spent my days I’ve watched the changing colours of the year I’ve watched the passing seasons through a haze And so my memory may not be clear I smoke a spliff and sip at my champagne A poet’s life is not an easy one A little sunshine and a lot of rain Is hardly my idea of having fun The layman sadly seems so unaware An honest poet’s life is full of care.
I am a writer. I am shy. I started writing poetry in my youth. I first performed in 1987 at the Avon Poetry Festival along side Bertel Martin of the Bristol Black Writers Workshop, supporting Benjamin Zephaniah.I gave my last poetry performance in 1992 at the Arnolfini gallery Bristol, supporting Labi Siffre during Poetry month.In 1998 for a year, I became the Resident Poet at Bristol Evening Post.I haven't written much since then but in 2014 I began exercising my rusty hand writing sonnets. I hope to continue writing in the coming year.
Addiction to harmless Is accepted Addiction to harmful Is not advisable Addiction is submission Which involves Imaginations Addition is Pollution Which involves Revolution Addition is attraction Which involves Affection Addition is a fiction Which involves Correction Addition is a caution
Have You Ever Felt Like You Were Curse, Because No Matter What You Did, Things Was Just Getting Worse? Have You Ever Been So Depressed, That You Wanted To Die, Just To Get Away From Your Stress? Have You Ever
And like broken glass The secrets intensify. The vulnerability of time. Both beautiful and sad. The sound of broken glass. Despite how beautiful the shards sparkle. Despite time. You’ll never know what’s on it’s mind. Hand to glass. The prints
When you first began life’s marathon, were you courageous from the start? When you stood there at the starting line, were you committed head and heart? Must you believe you’ll achieve your goals, from the moment you begin? Must you
Sound dances on the wind The scarlet life that runs through our body Bitter to the smell Sweet to the taste The lifeline that doesn’t make any of us humans much different A beauty that’s capable of sending chills down