12 January 2009


“The dream…It is complex you see…” she mumbles.
“Not as much as you are,” he chuckles
“Yes, even more so.” She is reluctant, but she tells him.

The dreams that are her new reality
The world she’s built in her mind.
The tall, gothic buildings,
The overpowering trees.
A forest of her fears, and her fears alone
Not meant for him to see

But he does.
He sees the things she hides,
And the one thing she wanted to keep hidden

Her feelings.
She hides her head as she tells her tale.
“And then, they kissed.”
Her voice holds quiet longing.

But that is all it is:
Longing that can never be cured,
Unless dreams become reality.

It occured to me ( via the wonderful Michael Holloway ) that I've neglected to put any poetry of mine on here yet. Must fix that, musn't we? So, here's the first installment with more to come soon!


  1. lol, thanks for the name-dropping.

    very cool poem, i like how it tells a story. What poetry do you read?

  2. Yeah, some I like to read are:

    Jack Kerouac, Allen Ginsberg, Ted Berrigan, Arthur Rimbaud, Sylvia Plath, Anne Sexton, JH Prynne, Robin Purves, Jennifer Moxley.

    (Robin Purves was my tutor at uni).