All is This This is all. All is this. This is. All. Image & text by Jay Cool, March 2023
Tag Archives: poet
The Segmented Self
I slaughter the segment of myself that is so special, that at special times, it remains especially – and self-destructively – silent. by Jay Cool, December 2022
Wrong Words
I sit and smile and sit and smile but the words that leave me behind bear no witness to the me that sits and smiles. Sits and smiles. By Jay Cool, December 2022
Some Old Man’s Bunion
I knew an old man with a bunion – it was true, it resembled an onion! Such long hairs did it sprout, that although it did pout, it wore plaits and became a Saint Trinian. By Jay Cool, August 2022 Image by OpenClipart-Vectors from Pixabay
Living With Covid
Dreggy stomach. Confused head. Heavy arms. Covid spread? Back to bed? Changing tack. Stomach fed. No more qualms. And clear head. I stand. Copyright owned by Jay Cool, Friday 17th December, 2021
People Think
People Think People think, I think, but think I – what they think about me, probably, doesn`t matter. That is, if I even think about what they think about me at all. Copyright of text owned by Jay Cool, 9th September, 2021 Image by Prawny from Pixabay
A Nodding Acquaintance
He nods. She nods back, unsure. Does he know her? Does she know him? He looks familiar, doesn`t he? Still, she`s not sure. Still, she would feel better, more certain, if only, he had left her with – before he passed on by – sure, if only he had left her with the surety ofContinue reading “A Nodding Acquaintance”
Uptrodden
Down-seating myself for to eat, in company, I find that hungry I am not, just dislocated, bewildered, out of touch with a core of me that is no longer where it used to be, nor even where I expect to find it. Copyright of text and image owned by Jay Cool, 3rd September, 2021 (A4Continue reading “Uptrodden”
Pre-emptive
Looking At Where I Am
A poem inspired by Boris Johnsons Brexit negotiations, as reported by, BBC2 Newsnight, 10 December 2020. Looking at where I am, I find myself at a dinner table, in Brussels, and devoid of the anticipated fish dinner, feeling downbeat, hungry, full of regrets and with just three weeks to go before my people, The British,Continue reading “Looking At Where I Am”
The Silly-Savvy Salopian in Suffolk: read, believe and write ... 