Any destination

Paddington Station and the choice is mesmerising.
A one-armed bandit roll call,
orange names constantly flickering
tempting you into an unplanned journey.

Deaf to everything

In this semi-silence
a world of whispers and distant thrumming
tries to seep in.
But my ear’s not open for business.
It isn’t just outside either.
There’s all that internal static and rumble.
No out, no in.

Meeting a solid barrier,
sound beats against the drum.
Rebounds, thunders round
and rebounds again.
This is the constant rhythm rolling
on a shore rebuking all waves
until they’re left seeking another listening post.

Macro moment

At dversepoets.com/this-is-us/ we took a macro photo and then wrote a poem of no more than 140 characters. This is a picture I took in Norfolk.

Gossamer-winged,
satin-eyed,
a thorax of burnished brass,
the hover fly embraces yellow and pollen 
One planet in a flower bed galaxy.