Proper Poetry

I like to see a silverfish at night on my kitchen worktop. I like the way it sprints in bursts like a blackbird on a lawn but somehow li...

Cremation is a waste of human flesh much better fed to worm or dog or bird. True, ashes fertilise the soil if spread but, potted, nourish...

oh why couldn't you be a coward just stand well clear and call for help let the authorities deal with it it really wasn't your co...

Overwhelmed by the warmth of your welcome, dancing embraced in your arms and lifted by cider and catchy music, I dared to give you a kiss...

Age no love's fool is lest it fret for youth's infatuation yet how reckless naïve passion thrills where age's sad discretion ...

Under the bridge in Trafalgar Street right next to Brighton station slogging uphill with someone to meet I read on the pavement this slog...

First a miniature volcano erupting from the earth; then changed into  a scaly green but blind reptilian snout, it mouthed its open jaws to t...