Tuesday, 28 February 2017


I'm not sure if Facebook is the place to place my poetry. If I don't put it there though where does it go? There aren't exactly thousands of publishers queuing for the rights of my poetry flow. Does anybody even read poetry anymore? Does anybody read my poetry? I don't know. What I do know is that the words and ideas need to be somewhere other than inside my head. If I don’t get them out I think that my head is likely to explode.


You're seen the permanent smilers,
the clowns,
the jokers,
the happy hopers,
the ever cheerful,
never tearful,

the joke sharers,
so quick to giggle,
the big grin wearers,
that ever smiling woman,
that hearty guffaw of a bloke.

Take a look beyond their happy,
are they trapped inside their own joke?
Is that sadness beating their hearts?
A flick of fear in the eye?
They are the ones to worry about.
These ones that never cry

Aside: The painting of the clown is one I painted a few years ago. Today I discovered that it's been borrowed by an American playwright - Tony Yajko - who resides in New York to illustrate his avant-garde play Bloody Strange.

You can read 'Bloody Strange' here.

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