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Mind Works

A poem written while on codeine. Mr Tourniquet in cubicle 6 watches the birds from his window. His environs are faded yellow and blue; his soundtrack a series of beeps. They bring him tablets and jugs of water; they take his order for lunch. He pretends he’s not seeing, hearing and smelling, but has nothing…

morwennablackwood's avatar by morwennablackwood

A Metaphor for Everything

A stretch of long, straight road, with a 50mph limit. There are double white lines up the whole length of the road, because there are a lot of twists, turns and adjoining roads. Open farmland, edged with old trees, surround. It’s just after 7am, and mine is the only vehicle in sight. It’s a warm,…

morwennablackwood's avatar by morwennablackwood

The Dressing Room

Resistance, it seems to me, is refusing to share your innermost thoughts. An illusion of rebellion tempts us to spew our consciences all over the place. All the media platforms are full of it: This is me! Here I am! Look, here I am with make-up and a filter, and here I am in my…

morwennablackwood's avatar by morwennablackwood
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