Poems written by Nicholas Rowe, from the small island of Guernsey in the Atlantic Ocean.
The pride is scattered,
limping, dry season ahead.
Rain clouds will return.
The pride has scattered
far, shattered, limping. Thirsty.
Dry season ahead.
~
Flies, dust, wet infected wounds,
pathetic hunger and fear. Sudden
new strength from desperation.
~
Resplendent female,
hot sun, purple storms. Eyes watch
her only future.
I remember rock,
and walking on the ceiling,
all outside myself.
Who am I? Really?
Who am I in other’s eyes?
Would I see myself?
What is the next step?
Where should I be heading to?
Will I ever know?
Sociability.
Telecommunications.
Solitariness.
You did not want them,
every problem theirs. They’ve left,
never looking back.
Brambles. Shattered glass.
Boiler pits, windmills and weeds.
Hush. History. Rust.
