À Ł Ŵ

Poet. Journalist & Documentary Photographer - North England

5

Writings

3

Followers

9

Following

À Ł Ŵ

Poet. Journalist & Documentary Photographer - North England

5

Writings

3

Followers

9

Following

My Dearest Star

À Ł Ŵ

1 min read

Ivory silk floats upon your neck,

With purrs of purity,

In a frequency one can’t fathom to forget.

Nose, leather-patent,

Soused in September’s tears.

Ears tweaked too well

To the unity within my breath.

Lime-drawn irises,

Her dark matter awn,

Tufts of whiskers,

Furthermore, her astuteness

For hauling other cats over coal.

Delicate, diminutive paws,

_Gathered grey up...

Poetry

Mystery

3

Justice of Debts

À Ł Ŵ

1 min read

Checked,

Check,

Mate.

I’d been played,

The one who caved,

In on your unpaid plans,

Still yet to be made.

To think you could be saved,

By the split personalities

You’ve so carefully made.

My womb wasn’t enough

For the babies I bore—

You didn’t change,

Though I tried to restore,

Only to find myself drained.

Checked,

Check,

Mate.

With a mused mind,

Barren behind the eyes,

Typed in curved,

Shouti...

Poetry

Mystery

2

1

À Ł Ŵ

1 min read

Direct,

Debit,

Debts.

Codings on the checks,

Hairs stunned on the neck,

Cast nets get webbed,

Casting of a match of shoal.

Fresh waters,

New swimmers,

Fresh collisions.

Direct,

Debit,

Debts.

Loops of the nets,

Time is the debt,

What’s there to spend,

Anything that’s left ?

Under sea mountain range,

A potted road for all to sea,

Notes flow from ear to mouth,

…

Oh how I’d love to catch a ...

Poetry

Horror

2

1

À Ł Ŵ

1 min read

Warm light,

pasted nights,

glistening upon the curved edged line,

of sight,

Nutmeg induced inflected irises,

Cast back Amphitrite falls,

Intertwining with one’s Lacrimal Papilla,

Chalk white, just might,

Performing the inevitable,

of being pale and transpare.

Oh how blanched and waxen it is,

to the oh bawling palette,

of becoming Eros.

Absorption to foe glaciers of shards,

Yet to be procl...

Poetry

Romance

1

Victorian Spine

À Ł Ŵ

1 min read

Though the candles heart does burn bright,

Though the bawling wax slithers down the shaft,

One may come to wonder who may be in town,

Fresh up on a crisp autumn’s twilight.

Doth a leaf fall and hit thee,

striding through the cobblestone streets,

When in present of a bitter breeze,

Thou maketh the most of what thou can breath.

He schleps an umbrella within his hands,

in case of yet it’s to...

Poetry

Romance

2

1