Poetry Corner #2: ‘The Circle.’

It’s mundane, yet magnificent. Ordinary, yet extraordinary. Simple, yet baffling.

Its one side includes; it is united, communistic, joined together never to be broken. But it also excludes. An outside. An inside. “Them” and “us”. Who is trapped? Who is free?

It’s the circle of life. Birth, death, resurrection. But it’s the full stop at the end of this sentence

It’s the inevitable, unstoppable rotation of the hands of the clock. But why do they never get past twelve?

The completion of its line evokes wholeness, but a cruel emptiness lies at its core which only the holy One can fill.

It brings stability; banality; security; predictability. But in an instant it can turn vicious.

It’s blissfully unique, yet conforms to its place. It’s a letter of the alphabet. It’s confined in the curriculum, trapped in the elitist club of polygons possessing two dimensions.

It’s conspicuously hidden, veiled in plain sight. The wheels that drive us forward. The signs that prohibit. The green light that beckons us on.

Its paradoxical antitheses will never end.


Poetry Corner #1 – ‘To Manchester’

I’ve occasionally dabbled in writing poems over the years, with varying degrees of success. Here’s one I started last year when I lived at home and commuted to uni pretty much every day; I never quite got round to completing it at the time, but my love for Manchester has prompted me to put the finishing touches to it now, haha let me know what you think!

To Manchester

Incessant rain cascades; the onslaught begins
Piercing arrows stab my pale face
Encircled by harsh, relentless arctic winds
A clap of thunder resounds; I quicken my pace.

The daily commute has many hazards to evade
Even the safety of the bus is fraught with danger
What an eclectic congregation – I’m amazed!
And their concoction of pungent aromas is even stranger.

But smelly buses and gloomy skies don’t bother me
Though coldness surrounds, there’s a warm glow in my heart
Within your concrete fields of urbane beauty
Dwell fond memories of which you’re a part.

O landscape of my youth, wherever I roam
You’ll always be the city I call home.