Something for the weekend

Looking for something to do this weekend? Don’t forget, Echoes in Space: Cosmically collapsing poetry is out now in eBook format. Click here to get yours today and spend the weekend wrapped in stars and decaying words.

Looking for something to do next weekend? Don’t forget, Echoes in Space: Cosmically collapsing poetry is out now in paperback. Click here to get yours in the next few days and spend the following weekend wrapped in the celestial bodies and wandering words.

(‘Echoes in space’ is available worldwide…follow your regional amazon moon rabbit.)

For those who have been kind enough to download this already, may I encourage you to write a review on Amazon and Goodreads to spread the word.

Thank you. Here are some freebies:

SHINE

Crushed to Diamond dust.
Inhaled in the right light.
When the moon is bright.
Deep into your vines I travel.
Filling your soul with stars.

 

Echoes in space

Don’t leave me here with that all over me.
Spinning into cotton spider webs. The dusty Milky Way.
I tried to give you everything, and now I feel diminished.
I don’t know why you’re so cruel to me.
My gold is just as good as anyone’s.
24 carat.
Invisible floating carrots from your Midas touching.
Yet only I see in the blackness it seems.
Left in the dark again. Left out in the coldness of space.
Tired of this fuzzy dream. I’m not those pretty people.
Where do you think this will end?
It seems you’ve travelled light years to escape my questioning, my reasoning and our solar symmetry.
The scrap feasting and bone munching you force me.
All must end.
Spinning my own planet on my fingers tips, as I wave your shuttle goodbye.
No more echoes in space. No screams for which no-one will hear.

Hover still

As you exhale, as you sigh; we float off into space.
Like feathers in the wind, like vapour on a cold day.
Instantly present then momentarily gone.
We are static.
Caught between the back and forth.
Throwing words like bombs, and hurt like rocks.
You forgot to anchor me, or maybe you never wanted to remain.
We twist and turn with the breeze and the change in weather.
The only pattern I can count on is chaos theory.
Managing the unpredictable, practising my problems.
I entertain the ether to see which way the winds blow.
After the hurricane, after the downpour; I close my eyes and drift away.