Quickfire poem: On the Internet
Mar 2nd, 2014 by Entropy

A quickfire poem. No polish, straight from the hip flask. Enjoy! Happy poetry!!

On the Internet

I live in a world of people
But sometimes I have to imagine those people because I am really only in my home alone.

I live in a world of people
And sometimes they all press in on me because I am always only in my home alone.

I live in a world of people but I forget to go out and see them because I am only ever in my home alone.

Turn it off. Go outside. See the world of people. Breathe deep. Be YOU.

‘The out from under’
Mar 1st, 2014 by Entropy

A quickfire poem – from the hip, without polish

‘The out from under’

I struggle beneath his ego
It takes up all the place
I’m pressed into the corner
The walls press on my face

I cannot seem to move
It’s getting hard to manage
He’s sitting on my head
And doing lots of damage

I’m choking in his shadow
To find the smallest chink of light
I will not give up trying
But I am too tired to fight

I don’t know who I’m fighting
Is it him or is it me?
Is this my ego bruising
Or has his begun to breed?

If he’d move over just a tiny bit
And make a little room
Then there’d be air and light and space enough
For everyone to bloom.

I’ll never win by jealousy,
Nor competing. Not by rage.
The book of me is all my own
So turn to my next page

I only win if I do not fight
And don’t give mind to trouble
It’s time to breath in my own light
And pop him like a bubble.

– a quickfire poem
By Kathie Kingsley-Hughes

‘The Tiny Me’
Mar 1st, 2014 by Entropy

A quickfire poem – from the hip, without polish

‘The Tiny Me’

There’s a little me, who I hear, who I know…

She’s very small and quiet and she doesn’t show.

But she’s wise and brave and doesn’t give in.
While I struggle and fight and can never win.

Her voice is soft and often lost
amid the daily clamour.
She doesn’t seek a word of praise, competing for the glamour.

And she carries on regardless, in her child-like playful way,
never worrying or caring if her toils see light of day.

If you care to hear her speaking, you may have to listen hard.
But first please drop all your judgements and soften up your heart.

As the outside me grows older, she doesn’t seem to age.
And the outside me gets colder, she never feels my rage.

She just plods on in darkness, not seeking the smallest chink of light, while I struggle to be noticed and fuss and fume and fight.

I wish that I could be her, if only for a minute.

And then perhaps I’d free her …
… to live beyond my limits.

A quickfire poem by Kathie Kingsley-Hughes

May 31st, 2011 by Entropy


What is me?

As I sit, my elbows

resting on the desk,
eyes tight shut,
I am struck by
the narrow
of my temples
between my thumb
and forefinger.

Is this all I am?

The entirety of
my being contained
within a

I could live without
ear, leg, appendix,arm,
bowel, fingers, tongue,
hair, eye, tonsil, breast,
kidney, tooth, lung.
Not one of these things
is essentially
me. If it was lying
on the desk before
me, I would no more
feel that I was
there, instead of here.

Yes, there is more
to me that
keeps me living, but
all that is me thus
is contained within
my hand with
some mere warm offal,

And yet, if I had not
a hand,
if I am not
also hand,
I would not
know this;
could not
my brain-span

What is me?
Am I hand or
am I brain-pan?
Perhaps I am
both, and


Poem: “Tea”
May 19th, 2011 by Entropy


Where would I be
without that blessing,
the humble
cup of tea?
It can revive
when I am tired
and restore serenity.
And the sacred offer
to make the tea
is a ritual
in this family.

The warmth in a mug,
full of hot
sweet love,
never ceases
to amaze.
And the daughter
who makes tea
for me
is always due
some praise.

(hint, hint)

By Entropy
The §purious Collective

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