Alan Martin: Poetry Now



In my woods-hidden house,

with the power gone down,

and no means of contact, 

I am a survivalist,  

creeping out from a niche, 

post the apocalypse.

My day is measured by the advancement of shadows,

and the dimming of ambition,

whatever the time,

it is increasingly now.   

My computer is a lump without function,

of no more use than yesterday, 

but my fifty pence pen,

and a scrap for the scribblings

provides for the download

of my fanciful visions.     

Crumblings and sheddings on the black-slated floor  

are causing a disturbance.

I will go find a brush…

this will take no time at all, 

I will have finished when I start

and, miracle, the floor will be swept,

and the lo-tech brush

will lean on the lo-tech wall.

So, a day without distinction,

not a twitch deliberated.

Everything accomplished,

nothing done.

A day without Me,

and so it was full, probably.

I would like to live that way,


A Martin    March  2020   


One moment deep,

personalities sit,

dimpling the surface

like whirligig bugs,

driven through chreodes,

scatting about and making it so,

from fragments and tatters

and patchworks of memory,

more hole than substance,

this is what I do.

I love people most

when not quite themselves,

otherwise occupied,

like a tightrope walker,

or a washer of dishes,

just washing the dishes.

Out of their heads on now.

A Martin  February  2020   

Alan Martin

Alan Martin is a Pembrokeshire native who has worked in several UK locations as an engineering inspector. He now lives on a smallholding in mid-county with his wife and son.

Kitty Parsons

Kitty has forgotten how long she has been here now but she loves Pembrokeshire for its beauty and it's people. She spends her time searching out stories for, swimming in the sea , drawing and painting as Snorkelfish and eating cake. She says " has been an opportunity to celebrate this beautiful county and its people. Keep the stories coming. We love to hear from you."

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