Jon Collins

National Disgrace 12/7/2021 It's a national disgrace Not the boys that kicked a ball, That did their best, That stood proud and tall before they crumbled Not the decisions

Casting Its Light Casting its light Casting a shadow A black dog beneath A stumbling drunk A hurrying figure, not wanting to wait To be somebody's victim A cliché, but mostly

Rush Hour In Brimscombe ­Scales playing, out of the window Carried on the wind Above the road noise, which pauses Temporarily on hold as if to say Go on, no, it's

when i sit by myself in a time and space a tiny place i can think of those things that i cannot face slow the pace and its alright.

Open Water The swell of a wave As it hits Your face Mouth closed, eyes cleansed Cold release as it subsides And you can blink again Distant score, stretching Parallax to tell the