Nether Muse

(More insomnia).

Ebbing from safe anchorage,
willingly as if hypnotised
I enter the soporific darkness
in search of words containing light.

As the Angelus suffocates behind me
and an invisible contagion
of night daemons quietly close ranks,
here I am plagued by music
from the deafening silence.

My pupils dilate to saucers
desperate for sanctuary,
from this deprived inebriation.

Then an unlikely fissure,
a needle’s eye, of
brilliant black light,
a polished ebony altar
bearing my words.

© Graham Sherwood 11/2016

Cohen Haiku

poet leaves his stage
soft words still ring in our ears
cry hallelujah.

© Graham Sherwood 11/2016

Haiku-ween

All Hallows Eve ends
old bones return to the grave
skeleton keys lost


© Graham Sherwood 11/16

Struck

(In memory of the late PC Martin Fletcher)

What am I bloody well doing here?

Bussed up

all the way from Northamptonshire,

we’re knackered before we start,

the overtime will be handy mind

with our Ben off to college.

Keeping the peace in a sodding field,

bleeding daft.

I’ve never seen so many police horses,

stay out of their way, big buggers.

Here we go, it’s kicking off,

it’s funny really,

we were only chatting to these blokes

half an hour ago,

they’d come nearly as far as us

now its fisticuffs!

© Graham Sherwood 11/16

Koan on a Snowflake

Where is the single snowflake

that fell to earth in a storm,

one wondrous moment

in the palm of my hand,

before melting into oblivion?

What purpose did it serve

or message did it bear,

where is the snowflake now?

© Graham Sherwood 10/2016

PoliticaL

limp lettuce liberal lemmings,

laughingly lecture

labour leader’s long lost legacy.

-L-

later, liaising legions

lying lacklustre, lachrymose

laryngeal lesions lashed

leagues licking libidos

licentiously lurching leaning left

-L-

lapsed latently leveraged

lewdly lauding laminated

lapidary leaked letters

lavishly launched literature

learning little

landfill likely

landmark landslide looming

leaving lifestyle limbo

© Graham Sherwood 10/2016

Wide-Angle

We all come to this sea,

for the promise of pearls,

fabulous riches

found full five fathoms deep,

but our fine word nets naively

gather unwanted disciples,

tainted limpets that cynically cling,

invade our true sentiments

and weigh down our aspirations

with jealous avarice.

With acrid scowls, we

from beneath our cloaks

judge our fellow anglers’ casts,

berate their bountiful catch

and dismiss as luck

such just rewards.

© Graham Sherwood 10/2016