out in the midday sun | redux

‘When God decides to look the other way
And a clown takes the throne
We must find a way’

– lyrics to ‘dig down’ muse

After a (very) long absence from these pages, and a very long time since I posted an out in the midday sun piece, I feel the time to sharpen my pencil keyboard is nigh. As indeed time seems, nigh, right now. In an apocalyptic sense. Or, just maybe I’ve rediscovered my muse 😉

For a variety of reasons, about which I may (or may not) write here in subsequent posts, it looks like I will be sitting out the current crisis in Accra, Ghana.

I’ll be back.


I hope.


darker | side | thursday

Some of you may remember a thing called dark | side | thursday?

Or perhaps, may care not to remember?

That dark tale marked my first foray into writing an episodic story. Some may perhaps wish it were my last. Despite myself, I completed that task, and, over 52 weeks, published 500 words each week, every Thursday.

It was not easy, and many times I considered throwing in the towel. Perhaps some of you may wish I had. Probably fewer still remember. Or care. I have this half formed plan to collate that story and publish it as a complete work.

Watch this space. Or not.

Well, I promised myself (and others who will remain nameless) that I would try my hand at writing again.

So, here we are.

Starting next Thursday at 24:00 UTC (if I can figure out how to schedule the post properly), I will publish the first chapter of my latest folly (yes, it is already written and ready to roll).

The song remains the same. It is a dark story. It will be 500 words each week. Ah, yes, my word count will be based on Scrivener, the wonderful app that I will use to draft and collate my story. At times the word count here in the WordPress editor throws a petulant hissy fit and disagrees with Scrivener. But hell, I don’t care. And worse, I might even write more or less each week. We will see what we see, no? As if anyone cares.

So, if any of you do care to join me as, once again, I explore my dark(er) side, see you at 24:00 next Thursday.



poetry 101 rehab: habit

There was once a grumpy old blogger called Andy

Who thought his photos quite handy

He tried his hand at writing

Struggled with the lighting

And developed a habit by Mond’y.

(for Mara Eastern’s Poetry 101 Rehab opened today for all those poets who participated in WordPress Writing 201 and you, if your inner poet craves release)

(and, in a piece of shameless self promotion, I have chosen to accompany my first contribution with the photos I used to portray my painful poetic progress)

Day 1: Water, Haiku, Simile
Day 2: Journey, Limerick, Alliteration
Day 3: Trust, Acrostic, Internal Rhyme
Day 4: Animal, Concrete Poetry, Enjambment
Day 5: Fog, Elegy, Metaphor
Weekend: Poetry Potluck
Day 6: Hero(ine), Ballad, Anaphora/Epistrophe
Day 7: Fingers, Prose Poetry, Assonance
Day 8: Drawer, Ode, Apostrophe
Day 9: Landscape, Found Poetry, Enumeratio
Day 10: Future, Sonnet, Chiasmus


AJT_3923 - Version 2

As he crossed the road the man he saw
Was he real the man so old and haggard
Of what did he dream was it shock and awe
Did he imagine, this old man, this laggard
The sweeping lines of time twisting
Bent out of shape defying rhyme
Did he ever want to stop climbing
Or was he content to bide his time

And the man when he saw the boy
Did he wonder what lay in store
What dreams and hopes might have that boy
A life waiting to hear the lion roar
Working and striving to do what he can
Was the man the boy or the boy the man?

(a poem about the future in the form of a sonnet with a hint of chiasmus for writing 201 – future)

(and for lucile’s  the clinic –  photo rehab)

*shot with nikon d700,  85mm f/2.8 lens, edited in aperture 3, analog efex pro 2 with double exposure filter applied, following the curve of time*


DSC_5836_4038 - 2012-04-22 at 14-24-02

two fight
for the balance

the west gate
confronts an evil
will they become
russian dolls
shaped by
etched from
broken glass
screaming out
keep out

or just give me enough rope!

will we take the right path?

(found poetry featuring landscape and a little enumeratio for wordpress writing 201 – landscape)

*shot with nikon d700, 16-35mm f/4 lens, edited in aperture 3, silver efex pro 2, diverging paths intersect*

Notes and queries

During the last couple of weeks I have been participating in the Writing 201 Poetry course under the expert guidance and watchful eye of Ben Huberman.

Each day Ben has set us a new challenge including a word prompt, a poetic form and a device.

Today’s challenge involves responding to the word “landscape” using the found poetry form and the device of enumeratio.

My response, a piece of flagrant and unashamed self promotion 😉, is to use a landscape shot I took in the Spring of 2012 at Ada Huja, a long disused site on the banks of the Danube in Belgrade which also serves from time to time as the site for the Supernatural music festival. I used this shot for a number of reasons . Firstly because it is one of the few landscape shots I have in my archive and second because it is one of my favourite images to be found in the first edition of my book belgradestreets which featured photos drawn from my blog of the same name.

I then selected ten captions (in bold) placed beneath every second photo in my book leading up to and ending with the caption from the photo I chose to construct today’s “found” poem.


cheeky wings
cheeky wings

Oh, when the day draws to a close, and the nights are long.

Do I see angels wings among your drawers?

Can you, oh wings of desire, carry me away, all night long?

Does my life hang by a thread, do I hear your muted roars?

Oh, wings of desire, cut free my bonds, make me strong.

(for wordpress writing 201 – drawer, a cheeky ode to drawer(s) with a little apostrophe)

(also for lucile’s the clinic – photo rehab)

*shot with nikon d700, 50mm f/1.4 lens, edited in photoshop cc, aperture 3, analog efex pro 2 with wetplate filter applied, undisclosed desires*



Cold, icy, fingers, reaching out, twisted, full of avarice, tainted with malice. Clawing, prying, like lice. Sure in purpose, disturbing, exposing, dealing in deceit. Touched unseen by fingers, trice unexpected, so uninvited. Wait. Crisis averted, like an oasis, those fingers are not


(for wordpress writing 201 – fingers, a prose poem about fingers with added assonance)

(also for lucile’s the clinic – photo rehab)

*shot with nikon d700, 16-35mm f/4 lens, edited in aperture 3, analog efex pro 2 with motion filter applied, meaning redacted*


the man in black
the man in black

Do you know, the man in black?

The man in black, who has a full heart.

The man in black, who made mistakes, offered his heart.

The man in black, who travelled so far, put away his heart.

The man in black, who always meant well, injured your heart.

The man in black, who some say feels naught, understood his own heart.

The man in black, who cared for them all, neglected his heart.

The man in black, who yearns to live, opens his heart.

The man in black, who with his art, reveals his heart.

The man in black, who has a full heart.

Can you love, the man in black?

for wordpress writing 201 – hero, a ballad about a hero with a sprinkling of anaphora and epistrophe