Aug. 21, 2022


Eyelid hinges squeak tiredness on opening,
a child cries early morning hunger pangs,
a dad groans as he looks to allay those tears.
Young boys stretch long, engrossed in their tablets.

Touch needs are enlivened by sensual
caress, as bed creaks to rising body.
A sink outlet gurgles in response,
house symphonics swell with heating pipes.

The trek downstairs is slow, noised by crockery
and cutlery, the spilling
out of cereal and milk and tea:
humans crawling from their inertia.

So begins another Sunday morning
that elders look upon with smiling gratitude.

Peter Clarke


Caroline Martin

21.08.2022 18:09

This is beautiful Peter. Such familiarity and gentleness. Thank you!

Latest comments

25.11 | 22:15

Grief is experience through the mundane. Simple but powerful. The accompanying image really compliments the poem.

07.11 | 11:14

Hi Peter,

A great observation! Social media can be a scary place... I also need to reduce my time there



06.11 | 16:24

A great one, Peter, in the context you describe. I don't read social media myself, I doubt my equilibrium could stand it. 'The balance of his mind disturbed' yes, I think it would be.

06.11 | 15:59

Yes, gossip is a weapon of mass destruction.

In my business as well as personal life I have zero tolerance.

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