The Web Poetry Corner
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The Web Poetry Corner

Chris Norman


Chichester, England, UK

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Chris Norman

Thin glass, cracking from winter frost.
Head down, detained in hands and low
rehearsing the sound of a word in darkness,
shadows of unfinished work consume me.
Broken by muse on the table,
wanting to unwrap the sweet

Fragmented money pig on the floor. Empty
all savings invested in a chance,
in a word that describes a feeling, that
cannot be but seen in eyes, of a deer
laying belly up on a bed of woodland.
I that the eyes should speak not just see

Inside cracked glass, it weathers always
warming face to move hands away
one to the deer turning to feet,
the other turns taps stopping drips in a place
where the wrapper hides no sweet.