This site is intended to be viewed with javascript enabled; please upgrade or reset your browser.

See here for more details.

Literature and Ideas


Memories linger of her form and
curves, like thoughts of burnt tyres swerving
somewhere down endless, dirt-track roads.
It hurts to be this crass, when I
could talk of her caress and charm.
But, nonetheless,
the female breast
and similar sorts
of suchlike flesh
have always beckoned
the lustless, the world-
worn, the warrior-king.
The dauphin, too.

Other things perhaps
best left unsaid.
Every creature tends
to tristesse. And this turns
all the truer
after sex.




I liked your nocturne.

I liked the images you conceived which coincide with the fatalistic tone of the poem.

The inevitable grief that overcome us when the realization of a desire leaves us with the need to devise a new one, if we can.



Many thanks for the kind and thoughtful words. Desire may die but it tends, Lazarus-like, to reawaken…

If, by the way, you have any favoured pieces of poetry — whether recondite or renowned — that you'd like to direct my attention towards, you're always most welcome, as I do sometimes translate from Spanish.

Please login or register to leave a comment.