Poetry: Selections from James Lilly

My Son

The visits become less frequent
Daily to weekly,
Time fleetly passing by
Witnessing my son become a man
He comes to share secrets, to confide his worries,
Seeking the answers, I cannot provide
I ache to hold him.
Watching him cry in the rain,
He knows I love him
But am I even there?
Longing to tell how proud  
I am
Witnessing my son become a man
From afar
Rain covered tears, mad stained monument.

Radio is Dead

All radio is dead
Silence has no memory
Eon’s of darkness
Mark of ash
Slipping through time
Remember you are dust  
Withered to once you became
Reaching zero more than zero.

On my Knees, not Praying

Cold in May
I am hollow, I have no soul
In the pit, my own architect
Home called days ago
No matter, amour-propre in bad choices
On my knees, not praying,
Never begging, comfortable in the rot.

James Lilley is from Swansea, Wales. He is a champion bare-knuckle boxer and a published poet with two collections (The Thousand Ghosts of You by Alien Buddha and The Blue Hour by Uncle B. Publications.) He has had poems published across multiple zines as well as short stories and flash fiction and was named Versifications 2020 Punk of The Year.


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