Savvy Poem – The Exhumation

  An old coal, gone white, c r u m b l e, shovelled into the expectation of an existence, that sees, only, the dust of its expiration. The exorcist, unexpectedly, finds a fleck of a white dust buried deep within her pit. She exhumes it. And it glows.   Copyright owned by Jay Cool,…

Silly Poem – Conwy

In the smallness of it, I lift up coffin lid and hide in the spaciousness of all that is mine for keeps.   As, in grandeur, my ancestor, Edward I, looks down from his castle tower, perusing all that is his, whilst longing for his own little place in which to be.   Copyright owned…

Savvy Poem – Misanthropy

I miss nothing about the trophy hunters who upcycle their own heads and mount them upon the renamed innovations of others. Copyright owned by Jay Cool, July 2019 Image by Elizabeth Ekman from Pixabay

45: Getting There!

So what’s happened in the interim? Where have posts 38 to 44 got to? Well, that’s an easy question to answer – posts 38, 39, 40, 41, 42, 43 and 44 are still in my ‘unpublished’ folder! At least, their titles or placeholders, are! In short, then with my head stuffed up with the mumbo-jumbo…

Vestibule: A Savvy Poem

  Making my entrance, I felt proud. I was in a trance, to be fair – a daydream! A dream in which I felt appreciated, a dream in which the face that looked like mine had a purpose.   When the enchantment ended, I was loud. to be fair, then I was disturbed and –…

Rufescent: A Cool-Red Poem

    Confronted – a crook of a man too cool to be constant, all cooked up inside, and lacking a conscience – colours.   Copyright owned by Jay Cool, June 2019       Image by Klaus Hausmann from Pixabay

34: Work Day

  I go to work. I feel like One-Strike Filler. I return home and catch up with Love Island. So many One-Strike Fillers using their strikes up on others. I use up my one strike. on myself.   No point in wastage!   Copyright owned by Jay Cool, June 2019   Quotidian: A Savvy Poem…

The Drilling: A Short Story

  Crouching below the window-sill, I knew I couldn’t be seen. I couldn’t be seen and neither could I see out. It was best that way. To give into temptation and take a glance out, out at what might be lurking beyond, would have been tantamount to sending out an invitation – an invitation to…

Formalisation: A Savvy Poem

To be on form is to be sensationalised. To be on form is not to be real. To be on form makes no sense of any kind of nonsensical nonsense and is – in a sense – completely and utterly senseless. And, no, I am not just a someone – a someone striving to be…

And God Sat Down

God got to the seventh day, but wasn’t happy – there at the end – on the fringes, so he took three and a half giant steps backwards and sat down to protect his space on a lump of sandstone rock, right there in the middle of Myddle, and he liked what he saw, so he…