I ... entered the poem of life, whose purpose is ... simply to witness the beauties of the world,
to discover the many forms that love can take. (Barabara Blackman in 'Glass After Glass')

Some of these poems are autobiographical, some are entirely fictional, and some are a mixture of both. The intention is art rather than self-expression. I don't allow factual details to get in the way of poetry! (I do seek emotional truth.)

They are works in progress, and may be subject to revision without notice. Completed versions appear in my books. Nevertheless copyright applies to all texts found here.
Thank you for your comments. I read and appreciate them all, and reply here to specific points that seem to need it — or as I have the leisure. Otherwise I reciprocate by reading and commenting on your posts as much as possible.

5 April 2010

Early Days

We walked the City Centre.
You held my hand.
‘What if I bump into
one of my kids?’ I thought.

In the movie,
still holding hands,
I felt your body shake.
(It was The Power of One.)

For dinner you chose a pub,
not wanting to over-impress.
It was the legendary Argo,
coolest place in town.

You arrived with dark red roses
to take me to bed,
an ice-breaking exercise.
We were both awkward.

At Christmas you took me
to meet your children.
Someone stopped you just before
you filled the tank with diesel.

When you asked me
would I marry you,
first I said yes, then enquired
if it was a hypothetical question.

NaPoWriMo Day 5


  1. full of humorous turns. love the last line as it echoes the afterthought feeling of the moment and by where it is in the poem.

  2. It's funny I so rarely write autobiographically straight up, nearly always a mixture of various people's stories.

  3. Churning out two a day, the immediate tends to become the raw material — and I'm fairly confessional anyway. My more leisurely pieces, though, are not always autobiographical; some are fictional, some a mixture.