Nothing in particular

By Cathy Lee


I’m not doing

Anything in particular

Just taking in those humble sounds

Of those around me, enjoying their selected company


From young to old, all collected here


It’s dimly lit and homely

Comfortably warm

While for show an unused fire,

Is completely provided for just in decoration


This is simply where I am

It’s recognisable

But not incompletely special


The wax trickles slowly down and it’s something steady

The bright yet translucent colour of the flame won’t give up

Not just yet


It’ll hold on with me, to welcome the next person to sit in its company


We’re in the land of a thousand welcomes

That is becoming something more special, now



Considering what’s going on, the current state of things

Those things that so affect us, going as far down deep as our morale and self-worth


The perspective of us, it’s shifting

The plates are moving further away

Shifting away from what’s known


I think these sails are facing backwards

The wind here is reckless and unusual

It’s no longer comfortable on this deck


I’d rather walk the plank,

Step off the platform and into the unknown


From one state of unknown to another

But consider this:

Coming out the other side,



Library Looks

6 hours until the deadline

600 words down

6 times you have told yourself

“You’ll never live this down”


A coffee break,

an escape,

From the enclosure that never closes


The land of books

and dirty looks

As you scramble to take your place


Among the scholars,

far and wide

The various range of areas.


You can spot the ones that don’t fit in.


And so you escape for coffee.


I’m caught see, it’s not me.

This isn’t,

why do I have this feeling of need and necessity when your presence is with me?

Let it be. No I can’t


Frantic, I must escape from you

‘Get out before you get hurt’
I wish I could forget and move forward but I’m being dragged.

You’re the centre that pulls, without consent

my heart my head and my soul

This dept I feel for you cannot be real, how is that?
This frustration is untold, I hide it well

See I’ve never yet fell,

and I plan to remain in the cell I’ve become accustomed to.


You’re all that I want, everyone and everything else is a different scale
This is a sorry old tale, ancient and dated this

It’s not supposed to happen to me,

I’m the next generation where we remove the uncomfortable things.

Why think of the impossible, does it make it any more possible?
Why. Why do you hang over me,

the deep swirling colour of your eyes or the slick skill of your hair or the broadness of back and side and form.
Why do I notice this?

It’s like a reflection of soul.


I see me, I see you.

You’re perfect, you’re it

I’m not.