Two Poems published in Ariel Chart



Air fails

to fill my lungs.

I drag, as if on

a cigarette,

but can’t achieve

the hit



The Clock


Waking, I turn

3am glows fluorescently.

Time of the night rounds, my

wrist taken by a nurse,

noted in torchlight.

I was never sleeping.


I would close my eyes


Other nights I knew my thirst

would be quenched

by the offer of the beaker, held

so that I could chase away

dust that had gathered, dry.

3am embossed my mind.

Common time for dying,

a crisis, running sound

of night staff.
Chrissie Morris Brady





By Chrisssie Morris Brady

I've read poetry since I was nine and have written creatively since I was fourteen (probably long before that). After writing book reviews and social comment, I decided I wanted to write poetry. I have no formal training, but I surround myself with poets and their writing. I am honing my craft.
I have two published collections which I don't feel good about, but have been published by and other publications. I live on the south coast of England with my daughter. I am seriously ill.

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