top of page


In mirrored glass,  he stands alone and yet sees his father’s eyes. He sees the fear  that he once had before that man’s demise.  He sees a man where once there stood,  a frightened little boy. But the man is frightened still, it seems, and hides guilt-ridden joy.  Joy at the death of the man who owned  these tired eyes before.  A father now,  without a father, and a freedom to be more.

Recent Posts

See All

The Cock and Balls of Karlheinz Kunkel

As with many teenage boys, drawing a penis and testicles on whichever surface opportunely presented itself was a staple pastime for Karlheinz Kunkel. But whilst the pork swords his friends drew were f

Have A Break. Have A Breaking Point.

The only thing Arnold hated more than everything else was the way Derek ate Kit-Kats. Arnold was convinced that Kit-Kat protocol - nay, Kit-Kat duty - was a human knowledge so innate that it never a

Poem for Competition

I come from a family of brilliant poems Inspirational, slick, well-versed. But none of them ever won a thing, Perhaps I’ll be the first. In a previous attempt at a poetry comp Where the theme was ‘i


bottom of page