Hunted

The tracker stoops
Eyes in a narrowed studied stare
Seeking what had passed,
And gone by there
A bruised blade of grass,
Perhaps a cracked twig
The faint imprint of heavy feet
Yet the final gasp
Leaves no trace

Worcester to Birmingham

Driving at night
Distorts place and time
The familiar is lost
In a black blanket
Bright lights seduce
And deceive
Ahead an uncertain
Terrestrial constellation
Sprawls
Trusty landmarks
Disappear
There is just you
Your journey
And your destination.

Pit Head

Dirty shaft, suffocating dark
Oh god whose awful power has hid
The warmth of summer suns in coal
And man must delve and toil amid
Such dangers and let death take toll

Each cage descending forever
Ears strain for cracking in the tree
The sweat of men marks every stint
Ponies trudging from memory
Blind to the axe’s steely glint.

Two AM

In the small hours
The phone doesn’t ring
Nor does anyone
Speak to you
Nothing happens
Silence reigns
It smells
Of nothingness
The darkness
All consuming
All colour
Muted
Like death

The Rope

Hangs
Twisted
Round
Knotted
Hung
Cruel
Hemp
Entwined
Taut
Tempting
Limp

The Corona Man

He came once a week
Each visit a treat
Lemonade, Irn-Bru
Tizer and Ginger Ale
All for sale

Yellow pop
Was my favourite
Sweet and bubbly
The long sleek neck
Mottled for grip

Cherryade
Tasted odd
But supermarkets spelt misery
For the fate of home delivery
And the Corona Man

The Window

The last thing I said to you
Was don’ t leave me alone
Naked in the corner
Hunched, bare
Boards scrape my feet
Cold light freezes my skin
Musky air fills my lungs
Eyes fixed in a glazed gaze.
Until you return.