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  • Writer's pictureHugo Earnshaw-Saran

Poems

Pen And Paper (A Twin Cinema Poem)


This is no blank page. It has been written on

It has been everything For hundreds upon thousands of years.

Always listen to my advice, It has been used on a path to success,

For my advice is to write, A way of expressing yourself

Through timeless art, Through maps and speeches,

Writing is everything, And everything.

Even this poem, Just like all poems, this one has been written.

This was once a blank page, And now it is blooming with life and words.

Make a poem yourself, Explore the magic of pen and paper yourself,

You can write a book, You can write a magazine, an article, a newspaper.

A plan to take over the world,  A letter to a long lost soul.

You can do anything, With pen and paper.



Pastiche Poem (Langston Hughes) - Snailed It!


Little snail,

What are you doing?

Drinking

From the rain droplet?


I’m happy!

You say,

My soul has grown deep like the rivers.

Though you’ll never be as big as one.


When company comes,

They’ll laugh at you,

Though you know that one day,

Nobody’ll dare

Belittle you,

And be ashamed.


I’ve known rivers,

And they’re strong and resilient.

Ancient dusky rivers,

Just like you.


Besides,

What they think doesn’t matter anyway



The light at the end of the tunnel


Sometimes the light at the end of the tunnel is a ball of fluff


There she was

As sweet as can be

Brown fur, brown eyes

She was the key


Half a year gone,

Grief slowing its chase

Swimming pool of tears

And me—treading water in place


Sometimes the light at the end of the tunnel wags its tail


That white-tiled floor

Stale airport air

Brings back memories of how

Everything started there


I had reached the light

Crouched down; trying to stay calm

Tunnel reaching its end

As she bounced into my arms


And sometimes,

Well, sometimes,

The light at the end of the tunnel pees on your carpet



Not so hypothetical


He stands at the switch

The train shining in the tunnel

Five men on one track, one on the other


Who to pick…

Which is right

And which is wrong?


He diverts the train 

Towards the right

Minimising loss of life

Hoping it was a dream

And that no one would die



I wake up


The light at the end of the tunnel is coming closer

Wheels screeching against rails


I look to my right; the main track

That track is leading to five people

I recall a trolley, an old crazy problem


What is ethics?

Who knows

Maybe it’s hitting me right now.



A TASTE OF YOUR OWN DOG MEDICINE


I’d gone to school, gotten homework,

And later found it all devoured,

My dog had eaten every sheet

I saw bits between his teeth


He needed to learn his lesson

To see paper and not drool

So I sent my naughty pup

Off to obedience school


When he came back again

It was him with homework now,

Sheets of paper stapled together,

And, strangely, I went ‘Wow!’


A temptation settled in,

I thought just one taste,

The hunger grew too strong

And I charged at it with haste!


I looked up to see my dog,

Eyes open and in shock,

Stunned by what he saw,

All he could do was gawk!


I guess humans and their owners

End up quite alike

Now we share a stack of A4

Every Friday night!



Dropping The Mask


When through the mask, I thought I saw your face

I envisaged it, an amazing map

In a different time, in a different place


Far too much going on in the large space

Echoes, lights, outside sounds, a loud clap

When through the mask, I thought I saw your face


There we were, just like crystals—all encased

Ready to be stolen, another mishap

In a different time, in a different place


Life, everything felt like a giant race

Wondering when it would be the last lap

When through the mask, I thought I saw your face


I looked at it all, following the trace

Handwritten, black rain, taxicab, wiretap

In a different time, in a different place


Then, even hatred was commonplace

It was all waiting for fate’s thunderclapWhen through the mask, I thought I saw your face

In a different time, in a different place



Fire Tastes Like Ice



Fit Literacies Seek

Rifle Kitties—Cease!

Fleeciest A.I. Strike

Creakiest File Site:

A Stickier Feet Lies.

A Celeries Kite Fist,

Silkiest Eerie Fact?

Fire Tastes Like Ice.




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