Unpaintable
Unpaintable
Unpaintable
The lines of red and gold
Conjuring fair cities from afar
Glowing streets, illuminating clouds
But falling just beneath horizon's gaze
Or towers of light that somehow stretch
Beyond
Jon Collins
Word weaver, song singer, pattern whisperer, baker and candlestick maker.
National Disgrace
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 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
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
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.