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Poems - Page 4

  • 1.1.22

    1.1.22

     

    new-year

    new-hoose

    new-trails

    new-trials

    new places to lose four bunches of keys

    new-rooms

    new-desk

    new-drafts

    new-craft

    new places to partake in slow afternoon tea

    new-plants

    new-rhythm

    new-moments

    new hills inviting long muddy phrases to run wild and free

    new-sparks

    new-names

    new-friendships

    new-mindslips

    new rivers of unaccountable lies

    new-hopes

    new-plans

    new-stumbles

    new-ends

    new maybe’s, ifs and perhaps

    new-questions

    new-shoes 

    new unsustainable views

    new-pondering the where’s and the why

    new-packing

    new-longing

    new unrecognising the fear that holds us firm

    new-circles

    new-cycles

    new cultural-horizons

    new quivers to hold auld lang sine

    new-glances

    new-scents

    nuisance

    new lines to greet the clamour of bells.

     

    ©  Craig Muir 2022

    Creative Commons License
    This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 2.0 UK: England & Wales License.

  • Striding

    Three boys, brothers 

    by their gaze and gait;

    the taller two steps 

    ahead. The smaller 

    messing with stuffed

    pockets half runs 

    to keep up.

     

    Did we walk that way?

    Me strutting ahead

    embarrassed by your

    childishness, playing

    it cool, almost a man.

     

    We walk together now,

    measured pace.

    Three men, brothers. 

     

    ©  Craig Muir 2019

    Creative Commons License
    This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 2.0 UK: England & Wales License.

  • Wordhoard

    Wordhoard

     

    Words matter.

    The ones we use 

    and those we discarded.

    The ones we blurt

    and those that will never return.

    The ones we hear 

    and those we disregard

    The ones we splutter

    furious, tearful, uncertain.

     

    That word matters.

    The one that closes,

    and this re-imagined.

    The one that dies

    and these that stop us in our tracks.  

    The one that heals

    and this that gives blessing.

    The one that opens

    wisdom, debate, ifs and perhaps.

     

    Words live on.

    The ones broken,

    and those we remember

    The ones revised

    and those we hold untenable.

    The ones ungagged

    and those we will always bear.

    The ones exploded

    unheard and intersectional.

     

    Each word matters.

    Coddle - breast - wean - nurture;

    Paddle - stroke - somersaults with twist;

    Regard - bless - treasure -  weigh.

     

    Craig Muir 2018

    Creative Commons License
    This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 2.0 UK: England & Wales License.