Ishaisms, Poetry


You chose the balmy ink to delineate, a dismal, (formerly unevoked ) cry; then appalled at the sketchy truth, did to bits separate, the frail parchment with fingers spry.   What started in an inspired hour, proved taxing and intricate to upkeep; colours and lines bore uncanny power, to disrupt, to reveal...   Cowed all… Continue reading THE REMNANTS

Ishaisms, Poetry


My fingers don’t feel like themselves today - they don’t hold my pen as they are wont to; they don’t scrape words out of ink, on the parchment, or tap the temple to stumble across a new one or two… My mind doesn’t feel like itself today - It composes no rhyme as it is… Continue reading NOT MYSELF TODAY