Florry’s Poetry

Sunday, October 18, 2020

Hurst Impressions, prose poetry

Sketching Hurst Impressions with My Long White Cane My eyes tell lies and shutting them, often, is the only way. Otherwise, shapes melt into point-blank headlights, full-beam, and then – boo! – loom out loud colours, or pulsating zigzags of eye-splitting. Some shapes speak, some stand quiet, and... Sign in to see full entry.

Saturday, October 17, 2020

Arvon writing course

The person next to seat 11A scuffles as I’m slipping my rucksack off my shoulders, and then hold it close to my chest as I sit down trying not to bump it. My neighbour is quiet but for the fluttering of what I assume to be page-turning. After about ten minutes they rustle and eat something. From the... Sign in to see full entry.

Thursday, October 8, 2020

‘Stop All The Clocks’ for Debbie Joyce RIP

Still Stinging Deborah: the Hebrew for bee, she is also an old testament heroine. There’s been a mistake: dead! No not Deb Full-on lover of Cadbury's Cream Eggs: Eating five one after the other her Un-sprung bee tongue in as far as it can poke Out all that sickly-sweet chin-running yolk Still makes... Sign in to see full entry.

Wednesday, October 7, 2020

Old man crush

Heart Throbs Still His heart’s throb stilled, nearly killed, then beat on; Stanley had got to get better in Puffin To go home to a walk-in, sit-down shower. The Hobby room door said, 'Poetry, come in', Which he did, gait propped with his stick, along An off-beat tackety-tip, three-way stagger. From... Sign in to see full entry.

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