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From childhood’s hour I have not been
As others were—I have not seen
As others saw—I could not bring
My passions from a common spring—
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow—I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone—
And all I lov’d—I lov’d alone—
Then—in my childhood—in the dawn
Of a most stormy life—was drawn
From ev’ry depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still—
From the torrent, or the fountain—
From the red cliff of the mountain—
From the sun that ’round me roll’d
In its autumn tint of gold—
From the lightning in the sky
As it pass’d me flying by—
From the thunder, and the storm—
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view—
Alone, By Edgar Allan Poe
Art: Eleni Nikologlou; Photography, “In the Shadow of Memory”


Art: Piotr Lichwierowicz

contorted by silence

pummelled and spent

he writhes against

the beast

unseen and unheard

surrounded by thorns

he bleeds away

all hope


Art: Francis Bacon


He rang the bell and waited

No one came to the door

After a short while he knocked gently


He put his ear to the door and listened

He thought he heard breathing

He held his

and listened

Someone was breathing

He could not tell who it was

He held his breath one more time

and listened

Someone was still breathing

He sank to the floor and wept

He had found himself

The door remained closed














Art: Dorothy Grostern, Staircase



(…) the curtain billowed gently in and out, as if the room were breathing. Wind chimes, too heavy for the delicate breeze, hung silent amid the quiet movement. Swaying slowly, they avoided touching, over and over. Dusk and shadows laboured in unison to paint the dissipating landscape. With each flutter of the curtain, the light dimmed. She stood still, in the eye of an invisible storm.


From The Book of Unfinished Stories

Edward Hopper:Woman in the Sun










Art: Edward Hopper, Woman in the Sun, 1961



Here we sit

time and me

back to back

and side by side

face to face is too


verging on intimacy

there can be none

between time and me

as we sit together

and apart

constant companions

till death do us part.

Conversation Anthony and Paul2010 copy

Art: Daniel Barkley


Tangled up in filaments of fear

Tripping on hope

Slipping on longing

I stumble and grope in despair

The unknown my hunting ground

Without end

Bordered by death

And life

Tangled up in a web of providence

I release my hold on all

And breathe in anew…




Solitude like armour

folds around me

with formidable force

Chain mail against the skin

sword raking my thigh

Unseeing eyes hide

under the visor

smile frozen in metal

Hand clenched








The outline is there

It fits




Fear grows

And subsides

Reality peeks in

And leaves

One alone

To feel

Death knell


Art by Zdzislaw Beksinski

Between moments


That may remind me

Between moments

The wet nose of a dog

And a soaring gull

Fragments of sleep


Between moments

The full moon negates reality

Between moments

I speak words

Instantly forgotten

Between moments

Cat love

Given, to me

Between moments

Written pages like

Paper bandages

Between moments

I breathe in, and out


Between moments

There are birds in the morning

Dark clouds behind the sun

The promise of a storm

Between moments

I think I am alive

Between the endless moments of

Missing You…