Poems

The Bungalow

The silence in my room scares me.

I jam two black hats, crowned with badges on top of my head,

hoist my full bag onto my shoulders and look around.

I'm leaving home for Uni.

I go outside hoping to see Uncle Jack before I say goodbye,

to a weather worn bungalow and a sea peppered breeze.

He's not out but his bin bags are, relics of our last

forgetfulness fuelled conversation.

I turn and peer down the petal pink hallway.

Mum appears, Nordic walking sticks in one hand,

a full freezer bag in the other, wearing a reassuringly brown

handbag and a exited smile. We're ready to go.

The music in the car soothes me.

I jam my hats and bag into the space between my legs.

I'm leaving home for Uni.

Autumn Air

Piercing ice cold air.

Leaves crunching like crisp packets.

Breathing like dragons.

Pear

Tutankhamun sits in the flat kitchen-

Bearing a strong resemblance to Earth.

Bark like brown and shadowy leaves in Spring.

A dark, bendy staff sticks out of his head.

He surveys a sea blue and snow Kingdom,

A Kingdom that's cold, windy and rumbling.

A Kingdom that is not his to rule over.

He's trapped on a rectangle ship at sea-

A sacrifice for a hungry goddess.

He's nothing but food, a un-ripened pear.

Published 14th October 2016