Tuesday, 30 January 2018

Revolver by Adam Parry

The seagull soars over
the sycamore there.
An unobtrusive moon
circles in eggshell blue
and waits to catch a seagull's eye
or some others passing by or
waiting by a bus stop in a mimicry of summer.

Monday, 22 January 2018


A day with ice, hardly possible to stay on my feet, but I made it to the bridge over the Bucklerburn. And halted. It seemed impassable - my quick route up from the Terminus- and I wasn't sure how to continue. A fellow passenger from the bus I'd got off  joined me at the edge of the bridge.

'If you can't go round go through' and off he went, sliding elegantly over the troll guarded bridge and I thought about witches not being capable of crossing flowing water. So, I dared a tentative step and almost fell. I took me twenty minutes to cross the ice bound bridge clinging to  the railings and finding melted spots as I tip-toed tracked myself as safely as I could to the other side. Then after the bridge there is a slope up to the back of the estate.  My house was right at the top of the slope so after much slipping, sliding I made it  up the ice seemed to try and catch me with every step. Proudly I was glad I didn't fall on the tricksy white willing enough break my bones and undoubtedly murder me if I could.

The house was cold when I got home. The young cat had found a space on a towel on the base of the bath, while the older mewled and watched with an icy anger, mewled again and I put on the central heating.

Wednesday, 10 January 2018

River by Adam Parry

Above the first flow that
runs over rocks and salmon
past trees and bends in it's bank
beneath the black and blue of the sky
those greens and gold of autumn-land-

above this first flow another river runs.
One of all colours containing
the magic of 17 trillion thoughts,
shaded and hued
cleansing the Universe anew.
This river flows

Saturday, 4 November 2017

Going with the flow by Adam Parry

Flow before you go
open all the dams and barriers
wash away the effluence
spread thin this veneer of silence
No more shit or carrion eaters, 
waiting the decay of dreams
the unspoken thoughts
the end of unremembered days.
death dealers on every corner
sell you the nightmare they got in store for you.
so before you go
do the head dance 
and flow before you go.

Wednesday, 1 November 2017

Rose Street by Adam Parry

On the street where you live
I stand musing all day,
knowing you know I am just the same.
But, here, now, am I different here?
On the street where you live
I stand in the sun a lifelong long,
then took a picture of a rose
on the street where you live.

Thursday, 26 October 2017

The Cynic's March by Adam Parry

Wearing fancy dress so no-one will see me.
Wonder should I shout,
offer some protest apart from merely walking?
Oh, he's taking a photograph,
better not smile. This is a serious business
and dammit I can't smile.
Look at the car we've held up.

Saturday, 21 October 2017

A cave of home by Adam parry

Trying to make connections
going into foriegn lands
to feel more at home,
when a search for belonging begins at home.
Yearning for oriental eye
that love as those others eyes loved.
Forever in this Romantic spell,
a Merlin forgotten in his cave with no way out waiting to escape