Here you may view poems I have created in various form – written, spoken, GIF, and visual poetry art films. Whilst my work is available to collect as NFT’s it is free for all to enjoy in passing; but I have provided links to the relevant gallery marketplace for all available works where applicable.
My NFT’s are affordable to acquire, and by doing so you enable me to continue to create, and spread a little light in dark times.
Your support is always much appreciated. Thank-you, Linda.
*
stolen joy lies silent constraint
hefty-clank-chained closet –
& as feisty firefly battle weary meh moths
long suffering moon
weeps chemtrail clouds across prussian sky/
toxic mourning
until morning.
*
there is a house next door.
where cobwebs thrive. spirit no longer visits. possessions moulder amongst debris – collapsed roof sometimes blue sky. in dirty drawers’ spiders lurk amongst perished elastic bands. bugs scratch under iron bedstead. damp dances decay. simply a matter of time. end of day.
*
jewelled vermilion
embers glow fainter –
wild grimace of wasted years/
a life of lived yesterdays –
faux forever
trophy tomorrows
snatched by lacklustre lackeys
of the godless beast.
*
*
Little Linda : FOUR
“They think me odd.” She said.
“But Girl you know that this is because you are not of their world.”
“How do I live & find happy here?” She asked.
“Simple.” He replied. “You look within.”
*
fare-thee-well
There are days –
of lightness – as if seedhead blossoms
take flight on linen-fresh wind rush-d-days
& I am ok
& the world is ok too :
I do not mourn your loss nor dwell on youthful lithe
carefree laughter / joy – vodka jelly high jinx / pranks
hustle of Covent Garden tube
strobe lights of Ministry of Sound.
I do not miss my best friend
the others who scattered like fragile leaves
when frosts threatened –
when single parenthood
weighed heavy upon slim-slumped-shoulders
& I sat alone with Cloudy Bay for company.
There are days when I am ok
even though I mourn the passing of mum
the treachery of family undone despite the shadow of her ashes
family / friends /youth flown
characters blown
to a million / trillion splintered smithereens.
All that was is gone
except in mind
and I reflect scorn at the unfamiliar reflection of unfamiliar body
world-worn / weary.
But today –
I am ok as I watch Rome burn,
goodly-goofy-citizens-consuming microwave-salt-d-popcorn
bread-circus-
bloody clowns!
/ red-gorgeous-poppies
nod sagely in the field nearby
lone weeping willow weeps
premature rusted leaves no longer green
aberration of nature.
*
