Poetry

A letter to Dr Jekyll from Mr Hyde

Dear sir,

Your brains are addled, your thinking warped.

You doubt, you stumble, you question every thought.

I’m here to give you the push you need,

but use me wisely else you will not succeed.

You have a plan, every detail laid out,

yet you’re short of tools, there are none about.

Without the tools, your method is stuck

and all of you is saying you’re well out of luck.

It’s what you get for beingĀ distracted,

your guilt is well-deserved for how you’ve acted.

What you don’t understand, or perhaps you do –

is that nothing will ever progress when what’s stopping you

is you.

– Hyde

Poetry

Time bubble

I’m falling out of love with the apples

suspended in the air, frozen

on their descent to the ground.

The songbirds too, paused

in mid-flight away from the rain clouds.

I can stand in front of a whole swarm of bees,

rear ends rapier-pointed at my face,

knowing they will never pierce me.

What’s there to like

about a world that does not breathe?