Sunday, December 09, 2007

On Dark Places

That award winning poet and novelist Jane Holland is doing a sort of online poetry workshop-come-challenge thingy. It is entirely Robs's fault for tempting me to attempt this madcap exercise, which makes a change as normally it is Julie who gets me to do the stupid stuff.

I don't think I'll post what comes below to Ms Jane - it was written in less than fifteen minutes and is thus by definition vile writing - but I will try to have a go at revising it sometime in the next 7 days (house guests permitting) to see if a few words might prove to be salvageable ...

On Dark Places

Cold in the tunnel, cold
and dark like the death of christmas
blown away by the wind in a fit
of brittle chill. I can sit
and wait a while for you here
beneath the stencilled angels
but my feet are wet, as torn
as pockets poked for loose scraps.

Do rats smell of piss, or tramps
of rats? I smell of rich food
gone ripe, I smell the fumes
of their passing. I am no hedge-whore!
It is the sky that leaks, the gutter
that calls for you; I write you
my name on walls with crayon fingers,
red words: I'm still here, still here.


  1. My dearest, darling Rik,

    "The stupid stuff"? Sheesh!


  2. Julie, honeybunch. You just don't realise your own strength of will when it comes to pursuading me to do stupid stuff. Remember NaNo?

  3. NaNo was brilliant, you fool!

    Sheesh! :D