My Brother
had a boat.
Made out of toffee papers
and soap.

Golden caramel
shone in the noon day sun.
Then one day it sank
deep to the bottom
of the old tin bath.

He laughed
I cried.
He stayed
I moved away.
Yes we are different
Guess I’ll never get to understand why.

Poppy July 31st 2013 ~xx~


Porcupine Lady…

Your brushstrokes make me smile.
You have weaved fluorescent purple streaks
about my hair.
Standing tall on my head a hat –
crafted from wire; all shiny bright and prickly.
Porcupine springs to mind.
What was on yours – when you painted it?

At the sitting
You offered me a plastic cup of lemonade.
Fizz went up my nose
I sneezed, you laughed.
What was the meaning of all that.

It doesn’t look like me
you have captured me young
Salad days – party nights
excessively overly overconfident
in my pig headed way.

The painting was a birthday bequest
just me, my smile, the wire.
The rest of me, seemingly lacking of attire.
I stand back admiring its dignity.
Such a pity that it resembles
someone else –
Someone: Who could never be me…


I left flowers on the ground for you today
burnt the house down.
When I have stopped loving you
Will you come back to me?

The tormenter sits aside my shoulder
Selling his misery by the pound,
I can feel his growing ever strong
nailing me to my fixed conclusions.

I left a wreath by the wayside
not to honour this place of your termination
Merely a simple throw away
That the bin men refused to take …

Poppy July 2013 ~xx~


Let the trodden day
foot sore and weary – make me think not
that I am the better man.
Battle lines be drawn, as flesh
searches out flesh; whilst my
aching limbs muster ready, for the next assault.

Far from sanity –
this battles hell.
We have all been forsaken
left rotting amid the carnage of war.

Braver men that I
shall stumble.
Pride intact body broken – how many lost
where once we stood united.
Fewer in numbers, by every second
in the ticking of the clock.

These wide, once desolate flat lands
stand rising tall.
Comrades no longer breathing
elevate these endless horizons.
Yet, we who rest here – are not in solitude
naked earth, foreign soil; for here but lies
our bodies bones.
We have ALL returned home
back to a place of dignity
the land of freedom and our birth..

White Fists…

Sometimes the white fists of old
pound relentlessly upon my door.
I offer them nothing outside a life’s long; silent loathing.
– To speak
would recognize another days
dark rhythmic hate.

They appall me
The self invited who long outstayed
their NO reservations vacation.
My eyes rebellious in resistance –
arms outspread pushing back the distance.

Turning the key in the ignition,
I fail over and over again to kick start
this cold flat mornings birth.
Fucked between all negative and the positive.
Tell me some more lies
about my so called intimate friends
It stops me thinking myself completely alone…


Poppy July 2013 ~xx~

Torn Hem…

I taste your smile
devour all laughter –
Whilst balancing my faith on a thimble full of absolution.
I have been misplaced somewhere
between desire and aspirations.
Past intimacies,
half wedged open doors.
There is no one home to answer my call:
Will you?

Torn hem
Jagged indecision’s.
Sleepless scribbles
occupied with outlandish past times.
Always in the back of my mind
the feeling that anything could happen
– yet –
somehow, it never quite does.


Poppy July 2013 ~xx~

Kite Tails…

The meadow so full of poppies
red lake rippling in the noon day sun.

You like a child caught on some
artists canvas.
Yellow dress – flying your laughter
kite tail and streamers.

Was it really just make believe?
Burnt fingers
Lessons learned
My now, lonely; educated heart.

I surface my horizons for air
she of such delicate scent,
only stands to stare
I adore your margins –
placed to perfection.

Forgive me my measured reaction
haste always makes mistakes.
Come close your face
in a thousand, tender imaginings
I’d settle for, just one:
If, that one – you would let me keep…

She Said…

An interlude
A prelude –
silent roads from A to B.

Threads of memories
outlines of smudged red lipstick
I’d like to tell you lies – she said
but the truth would flood my eyes.

Singular pursuit’s
with double barreled names
I am leaving the radio – on.
Windows flung wide open
I don’t want to smell my bodies decay
or hear those lonely cries for help.

She mutilated him far beyond
His life.
Red river crossing
Please remove your fingers from the dam.


Poppy July 11th 2013


I like how you know not to speak
Leaving it all up to me –
What began today mid sentence
will end in our separate ways.
From shadow-lands to fairy tales,
I let the me get in the way.

You should know
how very close
less than a babies breathe; rising waters:
you my island sanctuary – so fatally near
you came to understanding me.

The box, almost unlocked –
Distant exteriors
corridors winding painfully long –
Tarnished smiles presented as some
second prize recompense.

Therefore, we shall finally allow each other
to sail our course
no rehearsals
those thunder storms are all for real.

Poppy July 7th 2013


In this hand, velvet is the
peach sliced through.
In its hollow lies red, as in the setting of the sun.
I feel that warmth yet still a knife pierces
my backbone cold.

I am not given to befriending strangers
men who offer candy set too high a price
and yet – she whispers from her single
point of view –
Sometimes maybe often what is one
supposed to do?
Misunderstand me not at all: for I know that,
these are not handsome beliefs
Yet –
as the loneliness creeps up
smothering me like some slow marauding tiger
slinking purposely along
I purge my blood to pallid juices sweet.

Perhaps if the pleasure he offers
are meagre in their donation
I should not thrill to revisit
For I know
I can offer no resistance without circumstance
sometimes all things: become certain.

Poppy 1st July 2013