Robbie Brereton

Spring reminds one of,
Discarded leaves,
Rotting hats and
Banished coats.
...

Mr Smee Mr Smee
it's me Mr Smee
today I'm Arthur
warrior King of the knights
...

Fraying straps that secured his crumpled pack,
a dented bottle bleeding from the brim,
tan lines tattooed across his sweat soaked back,
the matted beard that used to define him.
...

Old shutters receded into flaking brickwork,
ivy dripped from the window sill,
dribbling down the rich red,
rising only to sink again,
...

A rabbit’s hole a landmine set to blow,
twigs are prodding bayonets that force “GO”.

Plastic bottles are mortar rounds fired,
...

So off we went.
Diving into uncharted depths,
trampled by the cascading horses
shattering against your skin.
...

Once more dear brothers
stumbling, bumbling into the fray,
mud splatters as shoulders clatter,
ripping limb from limb, racing to last play.
...

Wrenching her away in a rustling of
leaves, he split her open, pouring a
stringy substance of suffocating excrement
into pale folds of skin, tarring flesh.
...

There's a draft in this house.
It began as a whisper
uttered in the hall,
but now it's spread,
...

Male ducks are called Drakes.
When will the bus be here?
It shouldn't be late. That's not right.
We need to press the button to make the driver stop
...

Coffee granules littered the disjointed table,
as a discarded sugar sachet spilled its guts
onto the stained saucer.

...

I began Pruning.
Delicately cutting away dead flesh,
gouging out unsightly blemishes,
unruly leaves, split sinews of loose foliage.
...