Short Moulting Poems

I thought my little mate the blackbird
was being bullied by his flock
maybe pressured to renounce our friendship
his little yellow nose looked painfully pecked
his tail short and dishevelled as his feathers
I might have been wrong
his beak looks healthy and strong
of shiny long black coat and tail
worthy of any self-respecting bird gangster,
groomed and pedicured to the nines....

Read More

The Shedding of Skin. 

Parched lullabies seem jarring,
gentle persuasion an assault,
quiet understanding reeking of decay,
fatigued under this skin in which I must stay. 

Dreams of moulting,
shedding the hubris of crafty words,
flushing away all famished rhymes,
ripping the fibres of an ink-stained past. 

Knowing. 

Always knowing,

that honey-soaked kisses, seem destined,
breathlessly,
never to last....

Read More