[Poems] Tunnel Vision

These days of grey can pass like cigarette smoke, But usually linger like pungent stenches from drainpipes. That rotting odour locks onto my nostrils, Acting as an incessant adhesive that refuses to Leave. Killing interests, murdering my thrills. These eyes of shattered glass stare. They stare at this luminescent screen in agony. Screaming. Shards of…

[POEMS] The Red Wheelbarrow

Once upon a time in a London town, Where office labourers lived, Where habitants frowned. There lived a little girl with a bright red cloak, Bright red boots and a little red bow, Skipping along the pavement, contrasting from city smoke. In her hands, she pushes a little red wheelbarrow. Eyes as bright as rubies,…