Such Anger Dwells



Lost in reflection

Only the tick of the clock for company

Nothing seems to penetrate this blue mood

Each day merges into the one before and before that

Linger long in that bolted cupboard of the mind

Yell for release, or death, or both

Giant dreams are stuffed in, one on top another

Ignored for decades on end, on end

Rattle the doors, shake the skull insane

Leap out towing memories of much great pain


Copyright November 2013


sunday sketch 68 halloween special by terry whidborne

Sunday sketch 68 by Terry Whidborne @Tezzabold

chained and alone
a guardian of hell
he dwells in the mirk
a memory of light
of fields
and of wind
a torment
out of reach
buried as a bone
under stone
under hill

Copyright October 2013

Sleepless Imps

Sleeping on tides
Of nightmares
As waves of cheeky imps
Crash against the
Shores of time
Gouging holes in
The sandy coastline
Of long lost memories

Thunder strikes
On the hour
No matter what the clock
All is well
Though sleep declines
Under the smirk
Of a sarcastic moon
Peeking through cracks
In white net curtains
Not quite covering
The modesty of the night

Morning reveals
Eyes kissed
With velveteen bruises
Pale purple smudges
Painted dexterously
By mad insomniac beings
Who dance in delight
A whirling dervish exultation
Just out of sight
Behind the bruises
Locked within
The mind
Reflected in the mirror’s light

Copyright August 2013

Unbearable Seconds of Sunday


My darkest twin

Writhing within

Uncomfortable and fat

Feeding gloriously

Off the sweetest despair


By frustration

Being stuck here

Unable to make the slightest decision to change


Even scream

For help

In tones audible

To someone

Who may be listening

Or not





And gnarled


Changing blood

Red to black

Black enough to drown

Even the smallest spark

Of intent

That’s not what I meant

To write




The lion roars

My blanket of memories

Stretches back

To Rastafarian times


Governed by

Red green gold

And a surety of knowledge

Soon smashed

This blanket drags me back




Cold seeps in

Encompasses my soul

In icy grim

Frozen in space

Time stills

I crave the comforting heat

Which will not come




One last poem

Before I prematurely chop this day to bits

Each verse carefully severed

From the others

Shoved in plastic

Tied with string

Dumped out on the kerb

For all the world to read

If they could only peer

Bother to see

The rubbish

Swallowing me





Copyright June 2013