Focus enough to pin down the bones and flesh out the skin of a solid poem is simply not there at the moment. It’s at times like these when I feel as if my brain flickering like a TV with interference that I resort to trying to bring my mind under control and fix a few words in place by giving myself a picture or scenario and making myself write for 5 minutes only.

To counter the hideous grey of today I used this not particularly brilliant snap from my phone which I took a couple of days ago above the beach down the road. The waves were making a right racket and spring could be sniffed for the first time in months. Anyway here’s the picture and the words which came out:


Wind-lifted hair 

stranding into the slit of the half-open promise

Of her bud mouth in the salt sun-sparkled air-

Launches his fledgling heart further

Than the edge of the previously known,

As the spun cotton foam

Whisked up into the whirling brightness

Of a day, a moment, that would live

Beyond loves and years.

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