Reblogged – because this is really good.


You are sat in the pupil of my eye

I am in the neck of a bottle

Above the shiny hoards of gold

That make your heart

Your hand rests

In the small of my back like a poem

Each road I take alone

Is a dead end

A cul-de-sac of strangers

Who gesture in a language

I do not speak

To lose you

My heart would have to

Shed a skin

And slither low bellied

Back into the scrubland

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the inside, and outside, of my head

Poetry on the run

a poet's search for poetry


Writers write. The rest make excuses.

Ramblings From A Mum

This is my journey, my thoughts, my views, plain and simple and from my heart. Please travel with me and share, hopefully it will be an interesting trip.

A Prayer Like Gravity

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