the eyes of men
turn to an hour glass figure
whether, this is education
or a memory of mother, is hard to say
but we decry the notion
whilst admiring, the cut and nip of her parabolas
the flow
from one globe to another
like the convenience of eggs, time passes
we turn the glass
watch the hour
note that our fingers grow longer
our skin tighter
that gravity has had its way
drop by drop (minute by minute)
the charm of the glass, fades
we turn the hour
the hour turns, to the thought that all flesh is mortal
Gareth Writer-Davies – Commended in the Prole Laureate Competition, the Welsh Poetry Competition and the Sherborne Open Poetry Competition (2015).
Shortlisted for the Bridport Prize and the Erbacce Prize (2014).
His pamphlet “Bodies”, was published in 2015 through Indigo Dreams and his next pamphlet “Cry Baby” will be published in 2017.
