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Fear Not

Worry less about the hellfire

And prognostications

The objective facts

And speakers to follow

But breathe your life

All its artistry, philosophy

Open only in such a way

As fingers brush a book

Many read, but only

Your hand can ever write.

 

By J.W.H. Hobbs.

 
 
 

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Up in the Morning

Up, hear the odd calls It may be a burble, or the scatter of animal chatter Press your fingers into tools or bricks forming words While grey, then black, then still skies spool ahead.   By J.W.H. Hobb

 
 
 
Return to Read

I found this week how interesting it was seeing another person’s approach to an academic paper. There’s guideline suggestions, a CASP paper at the ready, and the normal read is surveying the terrain.

 
 
 
Back of the Throat

Mucal membranes block the throat We lose our air and start to choke With regularity, in dark times Full function is hard to find   It will pass, or it will not Each wound, bound and unsleeved thought

 
 
 

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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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