‘I’m telling you I’ve asked you’
‘I’m listening what did you say’
Month: July 2020
Today she told him…
When did he fall, bruised knee
a day or two ago, heart stitched
a week or more, his emptiness
the day she said he shouldn’t be
where she could see, he would
he said, today she told him sorry
Six Words – 27/Jul/20
Sentenced by line. No remission, unkind.
‘Shorts – a take on poetry’ … a page and a review
This is page 18 of ‘Shorts – a take on poetry’ published earlier this year in May as a paperback and e-book – plus a review which appeared on Amazon.com in June from someone I don’t know – who I can’t thank enough.
* * *
Unreal
Not of light nor darkness
eyes closed seen not being
eyes open memory clinging
unreal still believed
Chaos
Dark fell into night
light showed up by day
shadows took to shade
chaos spins their end
Night Notes
Shuttered eyes open
touching what he feels
words laid out marauding
captured light reveals
* * *
Review
Ama No Iwato
What an excellent and unusual poetry book
Reviewed in the United States on June 18, 2020
As an author, Eric Daniel Clarke has such a profound sense of what humans need, what relationships and life is, and what makes all of our hearts tick and break. He puts your feelings into the words, the words into short blocks, the blocks into profound stories that touch your soul. Plus, it makes you smile. The author has a unique way of handling words and emotions.
I am looking forward to reading this book over and over because one time is not enough!
Thank you so much, Eric, for all your writing. Poets and writers like you make the greatest difference in this world, more than you may ever know!
* * *
Lost Voice
‘Lost Voice’ – remarkable writing from author Lucy Brazier, the most English voice I know…
I have lost my voice.
I don’t know where it’s gone, all I know is the harder I try to find it, the further away it feels.
As I scrabble for the words, they vanish as mist in my mind. Like trying to grasp the memory of a dream in that twilight time before sleep and waking.
I wonder if I have used up all my words. They used to flow unbidden from places inside, sometimes deep within, other times from that bubbling layer of innovation that lies just below the surface. Stories would weave themselves unprompted and thoughts and ideas would bloom in black and white.
And now I cannot find them.
In a world where self-expression is all but demanded, I am impotent. When words are all I am, am I really anything at all?
And then there is the fear.
The fear of that demanded self-expression –…
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Didn’t get it…
She chased
he stood still.
She’s naked
never in his mind.
He didn’t get it
she’d moved on.
No Bodies
She of an age, not young
nor old, she knows he
knows, her lines and eyes
he pins within a decade
He shows his own, tells
who asks, yet as if, he
not believed, she says
(more wish) he can’t be
No time to tell, no hand
to hold, line after line
she feels, he too, soul bites
no sound, no bodies.
Observation
As she walked
he asked questions
eased as observation
Sketched at first
her hand held
he got the picture
Got me…
You’re lying.
Don’t count, it’s only words.
It’s about you.
Can’t be, no one heard.
What you doing.
Messing with the truth.
You’re a poet.
Got me, give me peace.
England… out of mind unknowns
Common sense let out the door
back in looking out the window.
Spike and spike and spike again,
cheap clothes, their fault, our own.
Cheers another beer, sand between
their toes, dust to dust, head stoned.
Out of mind, unknowns weep alone.
