SELF-CONFIDENCE

Opposition's less than fierce.   Skyscrapers no more towering
than an inferno.   Time's to breathe & a place to call my own.

Are you joking?   Balconies are like Beachy Head, Timbuktu's
smack, dab, in the middle.   I can't get enough of what's got

to give.


Speech is optional, writing's a must.   In the middle of Winter
it's as cold as – give or take – it gets.   Lowry being a match-

stick man, he's light on its feet.   No tomorrows when time is
money, it gives me the most enormous pleasure to introduce

it now.




SIRIUS, THE DOG STAR

Not solitary at all and never at a loss.   Sovereignty tells of

wonders we could do without.   Even a stranger's buried, if
not with honours, then with respect.  By speaking of him

kindly, a man may not fall off a mountain.   Blue-white and

so much brighter than the Sun, it fills a hole in the sky that,
the wonder is, we don't dream alone.   I play within lyrical

parameters, my new song is acclaimed, I am hardly burned.




LOOKING OVER THE TOP

The last conversation – not that I ‘do' conversation – was so

alarming, it brought me out in a rash.   Who'd get my vote
and who'd take an independent line.   Too often, when it
comes to it, the gates are closed and what passes muster

locally fails to do the necessary – terrorism, for example, is
conspicuously absent and, therefore, a greater threat, but
dragons breathe a fire that, come the day, blows back.   As

a child of the steam age, albeit the tail end, I'd stand on the
bridge enveloped in cloud.   One engine after another to
rack up a deal of rights: words neither here nor there.   My

future is a direction hard to beat, whereas contretemps do
nothing but create 'dialectical vertigo': I'm minded to shift
things further to the left, if polling ever begins.   Crossfire

matters, time sorts everything out, the worst is yet to come.




LOOKING THROUGH MYSELF

The façade is less than perfect, that's obvious – an intimate
portrait has enough room in the attic for some singular new

components, which is where the work remains.   'Speak-as-
you-find' and other captured images are badly restricted by

an emphasis on recreation.   To make a purchase, enter the
premises from the rear.   You will receive the warmest of

welcomes and be assured that workhouses remain a thing
of the past.   Speak lightly, feedback has a history to die for.

It's only by watching eyes you can avoid such excruciating
odds.   I cannot speak too highly of fellow poets: for their

dedication, patience and critical engineerings.   Being on
site & in awe when the time is right, befits choirs of angels.


     © Peter Dent 2015