NMP #5

He built for her a house of paper,

between low and high tide,

in the line between the sea and the sand.

She took their dead child, carried a spade,

dug into the warm earth his grave,

covered him strongly and planted an oak.

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.

2 replies on “NMP #5”

I am trounced by mediocrity as I pour through mountains of personal narrative and poetry, your work is a revelation. For the poet, there is poetry in everything written. This would be the case with your writing. From the dark pains, to slander thrown over the fence, coming through the phone, I hear your song, feel your pain. You are a f*cking genius, and I do not use the word lightly. If you are ever interested in writing a guest blog, we would be honored. Thank you for sharing your pain and sadness.

godspeed jasper kerkau

Liked by 1 person

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