The Nature of Gothic What does it want this cool stone span this bridge on air what does it ask of us who come here asking it our questions who move round its roots our voices lick the silence of its vault our prayers make currents stir in the tall air that asks us to… Continue reading Fiona Sampson
today, when she woke up, she rubbed her eyes a little harder. overnight (or so it had seemed), the mists had rolled in, ethereal yet real, muting hues and dulling voices. “from whence did it come?”, she wondered, studying her hand, its edges blurred. descended from Afar, or leaked from our collective pores? it’s not… Continue reading shrouded in mists of our own making
a bated breath; a pin not yet dropped; a gasp unreleased; a moment frozen in time, suspended before noise. a cry suppressed; a call unheard; a crumpled figure; a doubt, for you are a figment of your imagination. a peaceful content; a soothing caress; a grin, a wink, a pout; an empty moment filled, with… Continue reading What’s in a silence?
the poetry convergence 