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Monday, 25 May 2015


colours faded
carpets worn
threadbare emotions
hang like curtains
no longer able
to keep out the cold

markers bob
on the deep sea
the break water
the island
the sailing boats
and naval ships

birds dart
the headland beckons
the horizon calls
and the sun keeps
breaking through
the chill of the clouds

Two strong swimmers
in tandem
cut through
the dark waters
and return shimmering
to the shore

Friday, 17 April 2015

the sound ...

of emptiness within the sound of sirens, the wind stirred trees, the creaking of the house and the heart therein
the sound ...
of silence within each worded moment - let it bring you to the verge of ...

Tuesday, 13 January 2015

They sent me away

They sent me away, they did, smiling and waving, few provisions in my sack, no compass, save the flickering stars

And what a night it was, howling moaning wind whispering through every part of my poor aching body

Speaking softly and slowly a prayer from an ancient book: Help me, O LORD my God: O save me according to thy mercy* …

And there it was, just the fact of a sole figure moving into darkness and the vastness of space

*Psalm 109:26

Thursday, 11 December 2014

What will become of me ...?

What will become of me?

Of them?

Of us?

Of you who are reading this?

What will become of the blood and the bones that we hope will last when natural beauty has faded?

What will become of love not expressed, not returned, never seen the light of day? 

And love that is, that was, that basked in the shining sun?

What will become of the ones that could not be saved?

And of the ones that were plucked from the raging seas?

Winning or losing .... 

The world turns and turn we do in spinning space

And turn we must upon the perilous knife-edge of choosing

Tuesday, 11 November 2014

Belshazzar’s Feast

I set a place of forgetting at the table.
It was only after the meal that I remembered,
And then it was too late . . .

Published in Love's First Look, poems by SC Fordham (2010)


Grown in such inhospitable ground
Petals of pity trembling in battle’s breeze
Pity for all that’s lost, for all in the grip of blind force
Pity for every soul torn, for the weight of unrelenting remorse
Distressed soil of forgotten fields your home

The earth weeping the blood in which your seed is sown
Pick the poppy, make its death your own
Wear it close to your heart, walk on
But do not look for peace
It is the shoes on your feet

Published in The Cool of the Day, poems by SC Fordham (2009)

Monday, 10 November 2014

love is setting

Love is setting like the sun
So soon to disappear into the unseen real
To sleep, to dream of requite in the deep heart of an earth
That does not feel loss
That does not know longing
That does not hold life
In Truth
How long will the night to come last?
How long will this last light remain?
Time filters what strength is left through ancient fingers 
Whilst the world waits
Watches and waits for the first flickering rays of hope