Michael Shepherd Poems

unknown; formless;
eternal; always present

who may think of it?
...

How long
may a heart stay bruised
before it starts to bruise
itself?
...

Hopes die;
dreams fall;
and, subtlest stroke of all,
love sharply, cruelly, hides her face,
...

I’m not one for mementoes – Grandma
in sepia, pie-crust necked and pleated blouse,
expressionless amidst her dressed-up, mixed-up brood; chic aunt
with that hundred-watt smile which clicked
...

Stop me if...

The story is,
The Queen visited our local
...

oh shitty kitty
what a pity

kitty's bitter
...

You're not
going out
wearing
that
...