Just words

16 Oct

Benjamin Zephaniah- poet and revolutionary

15 Oct

Revolutionary Sounds Benjamin Zephaniah

14 Oct

All ya rubbish

12 Oct

No divine intervention – TB

5 Oct

God was trapped

in a lonely soul.

God was hungry.

It was dark. It was cold.

God wanted light,

God longed to see but

the soul couldn’t hear

so they spurrethed in fear.


Winter sulk-stice- TB

29 Sep

What happened to crisp autumn days?

Gone are hot summer nights.

Left with cold winter greys,

Short days and miserable-looking skies.

Moon Child – TB

10 Sep

She dreams of

Sandy toes and salty kisses.

The wind it blows,

waves carry her wishes.

Her hopes in a bottle

Sink to the bottom.

Yet she returns to the sea

Hoping he

Will too.

The bottle lifts from the bottom

And drifts further northward.

Scooped out by the fisherman

Who remembers the dreams he had.

Lifting the anchor

He sets out meet her,

Sailing the high seas,

Hoping once more to see her.

Then sailing into the harbour,

He sails into her arms again.

At last.

The stars they shimmer brightly,

They hold each other tightly.

She speaks but quite quietly,

“Stay wild, my moon child”