MicroPoems Ep. 1


Blushing rose
we exchanged tender gazes,
our eyes
reflecting a young amour



I write this month’s ultimate poems,
swinging in ecstatic melancholy;
as I recall this month
where my pen became keys



An uninspired choice faces the UK,
I choose not a party,
won over by truth-like promises.
Instead I choose a voice.



In the wake of idealism,
we’re left
with the slime of an familiar
new bureaucracy.



The underground a gallery
of covert satisfaction
and visible disappointment,
as Metros are abandoned
en-route back to reality.


Poems 3-5 are older poems, about the general election in the UK.


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