Delighted to have three of my poems published on Poetry In Surrey Libraries blog. My thanks to editors Neil Richards and J M. Gale.

Stone Jar by Strider Marcus Jones

Posted on May 20, 2021 by jmgale

have seat
stone jar
with heart old as peat;
you’ve come this far-
seen history shoot itself
to repeat the past
but nothing else
is made to last-
why weep
and fast,
while others sleep
and blast
this sorrow
from the same face tomorrow-
and what fool am i to keep
thinking that the thinkers
will remove the old ways blinkers-
and speak.

Soupy Potions by Strider Marcus Jones

Posted on May 23, 2021 by jmgale

sleep old name;
erase this lame
membrane of days-
where tracks of trust
go to dust
and empty in-out trays,
crack like blowed skin
under amphetamine
sun, remembering
how promises persist
in metaphores of mist-

and that box of rumours
the neighbours hold, like chocolate tumours
behind lace curtains-
knew your rock
fired the clay and shaped his pot
to aroused assertions-
then the moon-tide quickening
and coming in,
like soupy potions thick and thin,
front to back
on constellation grainy black.

Strider Marcus Jones is a poet, law graduate and former civil servant from Salford, England with proud Celtic roots in Ireland and Wales. He is the editor and publisher of Lothlorien Poetry Journal

A member of The Poetry Society, his five published books of poetry reveal a maverick, moving between cities, playing his saxophone in smoky rooms. His poetry has also been published in numerous publications around the world.

The Vase by Strider Marcus Jones

Image by Lubos Houska from Pixabay

standing silent proud,
alone, or in a crowd
life glazed mood and skin
outside and in-
for you, i think out loud
and take you in-
where thoughts abound reversible
and convertible-
where saying being wrong
reaches out beyond
the natural need to win.
moulded by my hands
to this shape that understands;
its cloth of clay holds you warm,
a mummer masked in costumes storm-
react with its receptacle of reason
for sorting truths from treason,
but you don’t need to have a season
to put your flowers into me-
swaying here, in wind and wild, as born so be.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s