Taken in lust
His dust
In equality
Floats with the quality.
The abhorred
Whore
Dances with the bishop
Who wisheth
It were not so.
All men must go
To that place
Where the race
ends
And night descends.
Death’s Dance
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Tag Archives: reading
An Early Halloween Poem
Light fades.
Shades
In forgotten graves
stir.
Black cats purr.
Despair
On a broomstick travels.
Joy unravels
As hope dies
And the vampire
Glides
Through pitch black skies.
“Albatross: The Scent Of Honeysuckle”, By Jeff B Grant Is Available In The Kindle Store
I am pleased to announce that my friend, Jeff Grant’s book, “Albatross: The Scent Of Honeysuckle” is now available in the Amazon Kindle store. To read a free sample or purchase “Albatross” please visit the following link http://www.amazon.co.uk/Albatross-scent-honeysuckle-Jeff-Grant-ebook/dp/B016MCMK16/ref=kinw_dp_ke.
Fiona Sinclair And Message In A Bottle Poetry Magazine
Several days ago I was helped across the road by the partner of the poet, Fiona Sinclair. Fiona was on her way to the Poetry Society for a poetry reading. I must confess to not having been familiar with Fiona’s work prior to our chance (and very brief) meeting earlier this week.
On reaching home I did some digging (if one can do such a thing as digging online) and found that in addition to her own work Fiona also produces “Message In A Bottle”, a magazine featuring the work of poets other than herself. The magazine’s description reads as follows:
“Fiona started the poetry magazine Message in a Bottle about seven years ago. The magazine was started at the height of her illness as an antidote to boredom.
The only remit is that the work be unusual and well written. The magazine is now Poetry Kit recommended. Several of the poems included have won Poetry
Kit awards. It now attracts the best of poets from all over the world and is enhanced by the artwork of Derek Sellen”. (For information on the magazine please visit http://www.fionasinclairpoetry.com/message-in-a-bottle.php.
Unfortunately (unless I am missing a trick) there appears to be no contact information for the magazine (or Fiona Sinclair herself) on her website.
Much of Fiona’s poetry concerns the personal. Take, for example her poem “How To Lose A Friend” (http://www.fionasinclairpoetry.com/how-to-lose-a-friend.php), in which the poet describes in a matter of fact manner how she lost a friend. The poem’s matter of factness adds to the poignancy of the poem.
For Fiona Sinclair’s website please visit http://www.fionasinclairpoetry.com/.
Heaven And Hell
To float on a cloud
As angels sing loud
Hymns
about the redemption of sins
Would, I think
Drive me to drink.
The devil would wink
And invite me to sink
To his abode below.
Should I choose to go
There would be good cheer.
bitter beer
and a warm fire, forever near
Well Spoken Girl
A girl well spoken.
The doors that could open
close
on this delicate rose.
The primrose path to hell is sweet
But the way back will defeat
Those who walk on dainty feet.
Don’t judge a book by it’s cover
Or you may discover
Something other
Than you bargained for.
Janus stands atop the door
while the raven does khaw.
Supermarket Shopping
As empty as a harlot’s kiss.
There is no bliss
In these aisles
Where smiles
Are lost
And the cost
Is known
By those who shop alone.
No Tower Fell
No tower fell
And the hangman’s bell
Failed to knell.
The passage of time
Obfuscates crime.
Was a line crossed
And morality tossed
asunder?
Did plunder
Take place?
Disgrace
Waits in the wings.
Things
Are not forgotten
And often
The deeds we sow
Flower in woe.
“Albatross: The Scent Of Honeysuckle” By Jeff B Grant Is Now Available For Purchase
My close friend, Jeff Grant published “Albatross: The Scent Of Honeysuckle” on 22 September2015. I have known Jeff for some 15 years now and am thrilled that a book on which he has worked so hard is now available for purchase. The book description reads as follows:
“I take up the little dog-eared, black and white photograph and gaze at it yet again. He could be anybody: but I know he’s of me, mine. As I put it down
again on the rough table by the bed, lines from a Chinese poem are in my mind – ‘Let me go down next year with the spring waters And search for you to
the end of the white clouds in the east.'” Barnaby Marechal knows he has a choice: search for the son he abandoned as an infant many years ago, or risk
psychological meltdown under the burden of an unpaid moral debt”.
Jeff B Grant Born in the city of Leicester in the UK, Jeff was educated at Bedford Modern School, and Strode’s Grammar School in the county of Surrey –
then subsequently at St. Edmund Hall, Oxford where he studied English Language and Literature. After graduating, he worked for several years as a Producer
and then Director of television and cinema commercials in London. One of his early directing credits, the 1973 Public Information Film, “Dark and Lonely
Water”, is still garnering comments on YouTube today as the scariest of all Public Information Films broadcast on UK television. Jeff then moved on to
writing and directing films for organisations such as the Rank Organisation, the Ford Motor Company, the BBC, Central Television, British Oxygen Company
etc. He has worked all over the UK and mainland Europe, in several African countries, India, Hong Kong, Japan, Australia, the USA and the Caribbean. He
received many international awards for both directing and writing. Jeff left the film industry during the recession of the mid-nineties, moved out of London
into the country and took a long look at himself and at life. He eventually moved back to London where he now lives. When not writing, he plays piano,
tinkers with computers, watches films and birds, takes photographs of the world around him, practises yoga, spends time with his partner, family and friends,
and eats hot Indian food”.
“Albatross” is available in paperback and can be found here (http://www.amazon.co.uk/Albatross-scent-honeysuckle-Jeff-Grant/dp/0993332803/ref=sr_1_44?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1444485269&sr=1-44&keywords=albatross), and here (http://uedata.amazon.com/Albatross-Honeysuckle-Jeff-B-Grant/dp/0993332803).
From The Dark We Come And To The Dark We Shall Return
We come out of night.
Oh brief delight.
The song of the bird
A loving word
All are heard.
Nature’s scent
Our lives are spent
In joy and pain.
In the end ‘tis all the same.
From the dark womb
We come
For a time dally under the sun
Then to the tomb.
It is over all to soon.
K Morris - Poet 