by Finn | Nov 28, 2008 | Poetry
When I was nine I had a .303 rifle, a real one with wooden stock metal trigger and webbing sling. The bullets, unfortunately, were imaginary – but we had plenty of ammo, Ricky and I, enough to get the job done. It was the best day of my child-hood playing War Games in...
by Finn | Nov 27, 2008 | Poetry
A swirl of bagpipes sets it off, notes throttling each other, fighting for supremacy against a tartan sky. Princes Street Edinburgh on a sharp November morning the air cold enough to cut in slices and drop into a Gin and Tonic or perhaps a pint of Carlsburg, amber...
by Finn | Nov 26, 2008 | Poetry
I’m holding the body to-gether, I can’t really speak for the soul, they patched me up on the ward and say that I’m just about whole. The sweats in the night leave me shaking and in dreams there’s a horror that walks and whether I’m sleeping or waking there’s always a...
by Finn | Nov 20, 2008 | Poetry
It was on the airport Road, a burning dash through dust swirled by spinning wheels Snatch Landrover bouncing over jagged humps, mobile coffin waiting to be filled – Then the whooomp of the roadside bomb, wheels lifting clear, helpless in black air. Floor...
by Finn | Nov 20, 2008 | Poetry
Molecule torn from molecule, sentience retreats, Water unbound returns from separate drops. Was it slow or swift this re-arranging of parts? How long the moment of dying when hot fusion of semtex and metal prises soul from body in a nano second, ripping life from...
