about Christmas…

about christmas
        russian shell(s)
        ukraine hell(s)
about christmas 
        freezing cold
        forgotten old
about christmas
        homeless (not) hopeless
        clueless politician, regardless
about christmas
        behind closed doors
lie (closed) minds
about christmas
        how much, is enough
               for you
                   for them
                       for us
let's talk... about christmas

exposed

spotted

spirit (me away)

not just for christmas

not the pandemic 

do you feel lucky?

palmed off

face off

caged dreams

lack of intimacy

you looking at me?

where are all the little people?

no, on reflection

closed (for christmas)


*images made with Fujifilm X100F with fixed 23mm f/2 lens*

Isla de Soto

There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
There is society, where none intrudes,
By the deep sea, and music in its roar:
I love not man the less, but Nature more

― Lord Byron


Continue reading

high life

this seat is mine

mine, for the time
it takes
to cross, the
desert
to cross,
from there
to
here,

a part, of me
is no
longer

mine

lost
with all the
other
parts,
along,
the way

lost

by all, those
others, who

said

this seat, is mine

(a) face (in the crowd)

Are those the faces of love, those pale irretrievables?
Is it for such I agitate my heart?
– Sylvia Plath

A face in the crowd, for the WordPress Weekly photo challenge

in his

eyes

not (under), his

eye

what will,

unfold,


*shot with fujifim x100f with 23mm (35mm fixed frame equivalent) lens at ISO1600, f/5.6 and 1/170 at the tate modern in London*

experimental

freedom, is
mine
(was the cry)

and then,
that
freedom

(was sold)
and,

the
price
paid,

the value,
of
that,

(precious) life

the
right
to be

independent

(no
more)

– experimental


For WordPress Weekly Photo Challenge – Experimental

And, perhaps, a prelude to the return of a weekly poetry prompt

stranger

. . .sometimes one feels freer speaking to a stranger than to people one knows. Why is that?
‘Probably because a stranger sees us the way we are, not as he wishes to think we are’
― Carlos Ruiz Zafón, The Shadow of the Wind

stranger, in a strange land

plucked from the earth

roots ripped

torn

stranger, in a strange land

plucked

ripped

torn

stranger, in a strange land

you, smell

so

sweet


stranger

corner

Never think that war, no matter how necessary, nor how justified, is not a crime
― Ernest Hemingway

it could

(perhaps)

be said, that

liberal (thinking) is in, a

corner

right now

the question

is

what will

become

of us

of them

of you

of me


For WordPress Weekly Photo Challenge – Corner

*Image made with Fujifilm X100F and 23mm  fixed lens (35mm full frame equivalent) at ISO1250 (don’t even go there), 1/800s and f/5.6 outside the Cortes, Madrid*

grenfell

we will remember them
those (we) forgot
until, too late
for them

we will remember them
who died, under a plume that stained
our sky
and
our, complacency

we will remember them
and their
righteous, anger
against our
failure

we will, remember them

won’t we?


poetry101rehab – grenfell

(just) words

andytownend_2017_01_12_00103-edit


words, obscured
by (razor) wire
and the (best of)
intention
words, unbidden
by careless
thoughts, and
inattention
words
just words
cause wounds
deeper, than razor

wire


it’s been a while, poetry 101 rehab