Words of warning and welcome:

This is very much my blog, so don't be surprised if this doesn't follow accepted patterns and norms. It is a place where I can be anonymous and honest, and I appreciate that.

It will deal with many things and new readers would do well to check out the "Story So Far" Page above this and the "New Readers" tag down there on the right. Although there's nothing too bad in here there will be adult language, so be careful. If you think this needs a greater control, please let me know. Thank you!

Tuesday, 26 March 2013

Drifting and drafting

Snow drifts. They are currently everywhere around where I live and they are huge and they are shifting. Monday they had to shut roads on my way into work but it hasn't snowed here since Saturday. By the evening roads were cleared again. This morning, the drifts were back, having cut off half roads and expanded in odd places. It was... very strange. On the way home, drifts have cut off some roads again. It hasn't snowed since Saturday! I think I quite like snow drifts, they are carved by the wind into quite wonderful shapes and patterns. Were it not for work I would stand and watch them as they shift and sparkle. Lovely, deadly and all round fantastic. A touch of the unobtainable, a touch of danger, and a touch of something beyond this world. I have never seen snow drifts before, so this is all new to me.

Secondly, poems. I have been thinking about that first draft I posted last night ever since I got interrupted by a waking Boy, so here is draft two:

One Way Only

Wear a dress? Of course,
Because he will grow out of it.
Cross-dressing a childhood phase:
Choices unmade so unembraced;
Love unbidden ungiven.

Snow drifts sparkle clear but deadly;
Salted earth mars crisp white orange.
Diversion: all traffic right.
Road closed ahead.
One way only.

Path less travelled, fork in the road
But not in bed nor spoons.
Backs turned, knives out.
Think! Don't drink and drive.
Slow! Reduced visibility.

Bitter coffee interlude, no biscuit.
Free recovery: await rescue.
Tiredness can kill: take a break.
Motorways merge, keep left.
One way only.

Crusts make your hair go curly;
Transition: a verb knows no nouns:
Sugar and spice but nothing nice.
Access only, no waiting.
High winds. Reduce speed.

Reflection in one direction.
Acts of blissful catharsis,
Bring all down to this.
Love is a verb.
One way only.


  1. "...blocking-out the scenery, breaking my mind, do this, don't do that..."

    But, alas, what do they all mean? Their import is not in their few words, which are often ambiguous, apart from the context of their setting and the comprehension of the reader.

    And, which be of more import to the traveler; 'Speed 45 Limit', 'Wrong Way', 'Do Not Enter', 'No Outlet', or 'Dear Xing', (sic) or the ones not mounted on posts for all to see as they whizz-by others in their own goings and comings, the ones that, were someone attentive enough to notice, could have kept that thing from happening, the ones not stamped in heavy & bold & reflective print, the sublter, wordless indicators?

    This might not have been where you were going with this lovely piece of poetry, Bex, but, again, subject to the context & comprehension of the one perceiving.


    1. Elle dear,

      No poetry that I ever write means anything other than what people are able to read into it. Often I don't know what it's about until someone can explain it to me!

      I have to say, what you saw there explains the images better than I understood them when I was putting it together. I must now work on a third draft to draw that out more because I like what you see in it. And I like the dichotomy you saw there!

      Thank you, as always!



All comments are welcome, I have a thicker skin virtually than I do in real life!