Shudder on the Stairs by Karen Little

One of my favourite sites. for reading and submitting to….I have a couple of poems here today…….

I am not a silent poet

Broad backed, seal-like on the rock of stubborn acceptance
she feels flop-heavy, all fierceness gone. Dipping into morning’s
amber road, the journey absorbs her pain, smoothes the grumbling
edges. I try to read the whole of her: the shudder on the stairs,
her crumpled skirt dangerously torn. The road has seen and heard
it all before. The walking wounded don’t commit suicide on a whim.
My mind is a playground with a germ of an idea, a gem sparkling
within the umbra:
Mountains deny artificial explosives can be put
to good use. We explode naturally at times—all that fat.

Ash and steam create the loudest sound ever heard,
while history doffs its hat. We surmise that if we bubble
and expand enough, someone will hear the report.

View original post

Glutton for Punishment

Kindle is a strange beast; the instant access to endless books for those of us with  the technology. It makes me think of those restaurants with an ‘eat as much as you want’ counter. We’re invited to be gluttons, pile our plates high, return to the counter and refill our plates. We invest so little into the experience, shovel everything down, leave as much as we want on our plates. We’re not required to leave a tip for good service, and it’s easy to complain. We expect the same satisfaction as if we’d carefully chosen from a menu that might meet our expectations, where the food was just what we fancied and might hit the spot.