Is a thought that comes from a line of thought written by another poet, a thought at all that can be called a thought of my own, or is it simply a thread pulled from a coat of other people’s multicoloured thoughts? Is it a frayed thread, a thread that is really a twig sproutingContinue reading “Thought Buds”
Tag Archives: poem
Savvy Poem – Outsourced
‘House’, Pixabay.com So strange that from my womb you birthed before you ran into the womb of friends – cushioned up by their company, as you return to your once-was home – fleeted and flitting. Copyright owned by Jay Cool, January 2019 Inspired by ‘Pieta’ by Rainer Maria Rilke
Brushed Up
‘Sunflower’ courtesy of Pixabay.com A sunflower life reaching up to the highest point before falling back down again and being painted back up to balance of the tips of a brush. Copyright owned by Jay Cool, January 2019 Inspired by ‘Death to Paint Us’, by J. Michael Martinez.
A New Year Queue
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com How can I shout my thoughts to the world, when trapped in my passage is something unfurled? Christmas is over – that much is true, so why can’t I shift, then, my arse off the loo? Year’s not done – I must see the end – so where is the bogContinue reading “A New Year Queue”
The Flood
The floods are coming to mark an end to my break – to dream days in my terraced cabin. I heed the neighbour’s warnings and move on out, lingering on wood-slatted patio – watching the last one leave. Still time, I think, to step back in – still time to gather up my things –Continue reading “The Flood”
Sun-Fuelled on the A134
{Egged on by the rising sun, as I confronted the usual early-morning drive to work, on the A134, I felt the compulsion to capture my thoughts in words. Unfortunately, time and the expectations of others, did not allow me to stop by the roadside to take a photograph, or put pen to paper. But, theContinue reading “Sun-Fuelled on the A134”
Thatched at West Stow
Inspired by a visit to West Stow Anglo-Saxon Village. Dry-grey thatch. Gapped. And drafty. An ageing roof in need of repair. Dry-grey fringe. Frizzed. And stringy. An ageing thatch in need of repair. Restoration? Expensive. Copyright of text, and photograph, owned by Jay Cool, September 2018
Recovery
Messy head. Self-doubts prodding in. Remnants of reason pushing them out. As they persist with prodding. Piercing. Prying and twisting. Distorting. Keep walking. Stop thinking. Keep pacing. Paced? Pause. Pencil. Pad. Coffee. Pit it. Copyright owned by Jay Cool, Sept 2018
Fried in July
The Lynford Stag in July 2018 Spilling forth from Breckland stag, Soldiers swinging, swords of fire, Shouting praises for promised lands. Crunching forth o’er sundried straw, Crackles burning, soles all sore, Citing crazes for conquered lands. Falling forth from sun-singed lips, Flowers frying, at devil’s door Firing curses for shrivelled lands. Deserted. Sands. Copyright ownedContinue reading “Fried in July”
Lady Bluebeard
Bluebearded Iris, courtesy of Pixabay.com Swishing and swiping, my sword serves me well. Bluebeard, they call me – Lady of the swamps. With my parrot on my shoulder, I rise up from the peat, more black than blue – complete with tattoo! Copyright owned by Jay Cool, June 2018 (ex Fen dweller) Continue reading “Lady Bluebeard”
The Silly-Savvy Salopian in Suffolk: read, believe and write ... 