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The Last Breath

The Gate

Now

Savage Knowledge

The Hero’s Death

For When I Am Old Time

Inspired by Pen and Watercolour at Work

A Single Magpie 

Butterfly Landing On Flower

They Scream Their Song

The Sharp-Sweet Star

Beauty

Hands

Revenge

Doubt

A Craven’s Courage

Reflection

The Commencement

I Racked My Brains

Punched

Assessment

​​Who to Fight​

Chains

The Stage

The Hunt

Unto Dawn

Unrequited

The Unforgotten

Meditations of Our Mistakes

The Cut

Grown Back Garden

Sir Dinadan, Percival and Gawain

What Holds Sway

Progress

Constructive Possibilities

Group Grinning and Social Smiling

Black Dog at Night​

The Boss Dog

Weather Lessons

Osugi

Easier, or Better?

Bone

Galapagos Hunting

​Solitary Labour

Pretty Pointers

Old and Grey

While Reading Wordsworth

‘Methinks the reaper hunches’

You are the Hand

Sharper and Smaller

Written off the cuff, for Someone

The Few

Combe Down

Two Evils

The Artist

Thumos​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

Miura Music

Awakening

Our Virtues and Vices

Spring Affirmation

Small Victories

The Fall of Finrod’s Song

Achievement

Battle Born

The Dragon

The Meditative Space

Back in the Fire

Beat the Mob

Death to Envy

Who is ‘We’?

Hold

Smile, Don’t Weep

Listen

Melancholia Matters

The Jeweller’s Art

Heart and Stone

Change

Singularity’s Heart

George’s Fight

Leonine Purpose

In Progress

Not This Time

We Are The Storm

Close

Skeleton

Fear Not

The Comfort of Context

Living

Have You Walked Among The Rain

When Gone

No Beast Has Claws

Poem On The Pavement

Pavement Poems, Second Part

Pavement Poems Three

“Old” Places

Goodness

Lives

“What breaks you makes you”

Vices and Choices

Deed?

Tear and Share

Count

Leap From The Flaws

Lose Not Your Ventures

Meal

Ghan and Krishna

I Pray It Haunts Hereafter

Acquaintance

No One and None​

Nervepaths

The Forest Leaves

Ivy's Grip

Magpie Couple Climbing

Yesterday's

When it rains

Chuck-It-Down Weather

Faces Change Little

Far Away Life

One Mouth, Two Arms, Two Eyes

Life is

Dopamine Seed

Leaders

Poems are People

The Soiled Snail

The Rolling Worm

A Forest Island

Human

Just So

Go On

About the Rains

Nevermarked

Search

What Is Creation?

What is creating something?   I’ve asked that to myself, struggling to finish reading a book on the day I set, while someone beside me quite languidly carried on pencil sketching as the sun went down. I’ve heard accounts of the pain of childbirth, decades it took someone to make a business that stood on its own. I’m a little disappointed that many projects in my life are not the solid blocks of material matter they ought to be.   To make something is to see it concluded. See

Nevermarked

No one can ever truly mar Beautiful things Place words and Attempt peer pressures They can go out of style Be judged out of their merit Kept enclosed or In dark days fade from mind But like sands and stones Massaged by persistent waters It is a Form, a Truth, a statement That there is beauty And what is a marvel can endure. By J.W.H. Hobbs.

Love the Re-Draft

For all the work I’ve done, sometimes you have to come back immediately. It could be an email, or something annoying me in bed before sleep. I’ve needed to make necessary edits to letters, my website, perhaps I missed adding in music and could have touched up the image quality.   Every single time there’s a little groan deep inside. Every single time it was necessary, whether I appreciated that at the time or not. When I finished my first self-published work, it was a case of

About the Rains

All about the rains Raw slate of a cloudless sky Alike have the rawness of nature Motion beyond motions So large a scape Detailed and fast Beyond counting, or true comprehension Is the body striving to be aware of itself   The gestalt of memory Of true lives buried and writhing beneath The true action Thumos seated within a man Or the anima of a muse’s radiance   To be radiance One within an ununderstood design Retreat into the waves Lower the vibration of sound Sometimes we

Biome, Place, Character

When it comes to the richness of the gaming experience, the interface, character and pace will all be highly valued; but the first element often advertised, and the initial hook is the surroundings.   Atmosphere is a large word pivotal to the experience; but honestly in games and film the heart of this is the visual space. A virtual space, literally when we consider both mediums. You are perceiving an elegant projection from a device   From the Halo  so definitive it’s the ti

Go On

No matter The long Long Arduousness And futility To think To name To say No Is To Live And how entropy Apathy, and evil despise that.   To live is to plant time’s flowers.   By J.W.H. Hobbs.

How Retinues Reflect Aerys Targaryen II, The Mad King

Now, in many ways this array of legendary warriors devoted to guarding a king is the exception that proves the rule. It makes a very fine point about knights in shining armour, that for all the finery some of these men can stand by and tell their younger brother to keep quiet while the queen screams:   “That was the White Bull, loyal to the end and a better man than me, all agree.”   It speaks to the truth of Arthurian legend, where in truth sexual abuse, the drugging and ass

Just So

Just so How the polite edge Of conversation peeks Amusement, besides a smile Comes common as coins nowadays   But can we shake our interests? In meeting a new topic Share air with a new friend Perhaps one in one hundred conversations Titillate with speech having paired partners.   By J.W.H. Hobbs.

The Last Breath

In every laboured breath And deed planned for no tomorrow In the cold of lightless suns With no promise of our laboured love   The cold and abandoned heart Beats its resolve And warms outer grass Bending with future breath   No warrior, pilgrim of knight Thinks of has the belief In the mortal world that virtue sleeps   It springs at the last With the promise of perhaps When you give that bought pain Perhaps take last laboured breath   By J.W.H. Hobbs.

Fire in the Thunderstorm

Strike one matchstick, and you may fail.   Try to uplift yourself in the pouring rain, and a sense of absurd humiliation may weigh you down.   That does not make it do forever.   I see people each day speak adamantly of having no hope, and I hear in my work people who feel they have no choice, no recourse. My calling is to lift whatever little drive I can. Because we are all struggling. We are all threatened by a black sky promising no hope, no shelter in this life. But a few

Human

You do not find it by being nice Certainly not in what people say When buying, working, selling Or in bite down chunks of corporate expression   In the cold night air Or the sweat filled sun When they might run you down Might share a word Strangers you never see again Lovers, breaking that ice with saltwater conversation In the pages of wise men and women Who know what you felt And the suggestions of those looking up and not down to the ground Maybe once in a very long while

Dirt and Diamonds

A smart woman told me once that: “You don’t plough fields with diamonds”.   I thought of it visually as diamonds in the dusty field, like the ones I walked through as I looked for work. I learned later, in the process of selling jewellery and items for engaged couples and married people that there were carbonised artefacts in diamond rings.   “Nature’s birthmarks”, the soft corporate voice of one distasteful person I worked with told me, encouraging how I was to sell it.   I

A Forest Island

Over bands of land the rail heights Take us over green hill land And discover what we might New history and places found.   By J.W.H. Hobbs.

Resist and Return

I notice that when sick, when threatened by an existential threat, or given a daunting task that we put a particular light on this event....

The Rolling Worm

Down earthen steps Of strange steep slopes The flat straight worm Rolls in the sun   Its home bigger than any in the land For millions of...

Character Analysis: The Exile

[I will go with the character and avatar as played in the game on this, Meera Surik, the ‘canon’ Legends character being another thing...

The Soiled Snail

Where pepper clouds of birds And shying leaves swing From ferns and greens airing their scent Sits the soiled snail The instinct to...

Chuck-It-Down Weather

‘They’ do not matter And friends and strangers pose Much better puzzles and living life Than homogenous foes.   Rain comes hardest...

Poetry, Art Writing and Life Writing

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@j.w.h.hobbs

All original poetry intellectual property of J.W.H. Hobbs. Photographs taken by J.W.H. Hobbs.

Consistency. Effort.
Passion.

Business Email: j.w.h.hobbs22@gmail.com 

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