Poet's Tea

January 31, 2005

Shameless thievery of ideas

This was inspired by a poem by Gama here, not by current feelings (just incase you were concerned that i might be wandering around with a broken heart, or indeed one made of metal...)

Scars in steel,
Tears in the metal fabric
Of my once-emotional middle muscle
It beats,
welded on the perforation now
Jagged, ragged edges
Where I once held you

Shameless bit of self-promotion

Was pretty chuffed about this. My first review!

January 30, 2005

Cuando tu me hablas

You look, curiously at life
Like a marked and scribbled page of poetry;
with every reading, more discoveries
Giving rhythm
To your dance.

The Horizon

The Horizon
Suddenly in view
Too long, obscured by grey.
Welcome to existence!
Ever-changing landscape
With every cloudless morning.

January 29, 2005

Fresh Sweet Air in the City

Let me bask in the warmth
Of the bus exhaust;
Double-decker glow
adding life to my fingers,
Block cold from the drizzled wet
Of an evening's ride home.

January 26, 2005


From Milan
You cut my hair into
A new

Oh look! There I am!

chattering on world
smiling children with bottles as gameboys,
restricted expression,
dancing in the high street with strangers
and sucking the marrow out

dead poets style.

January 24, 2005

The Plan

The days pass faster in the colder sun
weave their way through air;
Painful, below zero
Gasped in
cycling along the riverside.

Brows unfurrow
At potential storms

Tomorrows lie in flux
Stretching out
Like tide-lines on the Thames.

January 20, 2005

Last Day

(Last day was Monday 17th)

Rocking chair here
Hiding with wooden lattices
Behind old new year decorations
illuminated by everywhichway lamps,
in everywhichway colours.
Three weeks,
Filled as years,
Fallen split seconds.
We'll be back on the plane
Heading back to the place
Filled together with same same.

Back to reality.

The Grand Palace Guard

Grand Palace
The Guard
Solemn in white,
Stares ahead
As flocks of tourists gather
recording him in holiday albums.
We spot a sign of heartbeat
People watching, watching for movement;
Our passtime there is similar.
The smirk, witheld but like a laugh
On any other
Is momentary between crowds
But lasts
Throughout the blur of empty unknown faces

January 15, 2005

Cambodian Snow

On a trip round Battambang, (West Cambodia, near the border with Thailand) on motorbikes, we encountered what the guys driving the bikes call 'Cambodian Snow' ; the dust that is kicked up by trucks, bikes and cars on the bumpy roads.

The palm leaves are caked
In Cambodian snow,
Dry rain
Over the landscape,
Heading from Battambang.

January 12, 2005


S-21 stands for 'Security Office 21'. It was a School converted into a prison to interrogate, torture and exterminate anyone who opposed the Khmer Rouge Regime in Cambodia in the late 1970's. It is now a Genocide museum, documenting the crimes against humanity of the Khmer Rouge. I visited it last week.

A Small bird, lands briefly
On a display board
Lined with faces
Staring through the camera
Numbered before their torments
A nightmare of eyes.

Life, flits suddenly
Through barred and wired windows
Old classrooms
Echoing playground games.