Tics (Remove filter)
Movement
I move
Always
A private chorea
On public display
Tapping rhythms
With feet
Head
Invisible drum sticks
Finger nails
And I rock to and fro
To a silent disco
Just for me
Swaying against the crowd.
Wednesday 8th January 2020 11:56 pm
Recent Comments
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Civilities
1 hour ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Stats (To be continued)
2 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Sonnet: Imigh Hotovely, Imigh Smál Damnaithe! Imigh is Póg mo Thóin! [Out Hotovely, Out Damned Spot! Out and Kiss my Arse!]
2 hours ago
Rolph David on The Anchorage Gambit – Reflexive Control
2 hours ago
Graham Sherwood on Stats (To be continued)
3 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Tikumtok
3 hours ago
Stephen Gospage on August 2025 Collage Poem: A Cut Above
3 hours ago
Nigel Astell on August 2025 Collage Poem: A Cut Above
9 hours ago
John Coopey on I SHAN’T ALWAYS BE LOVELY
11 hours ago
John F Keane on August 2025 Collage Poem: A Cut Above
13 hours ago