Clive Culverhouse

Clive Culverhouse Poems

If the flames
do not turn your bones into ash
your bones will rot
deep in the ground

but Donaldson was already drifting
further and further away from us
the thickness of his suit decreasing

there will be a baby crying
in the next room, but not yet
people are still standing around
my bed and I'm still on my last breaths

the hapless toad
who croaked a verse
and moved the trees around him

of black
- - maybe - -
but it's in

Long have I stood
Long stood have I gazed
Long gazed have I thought
Long thought have I suffered

White Ted looked flat;
that hair and pyjama bed smell.
She was getting heavier

Homo Machina
The Future Of Human Evolution

grey will not do metallic's justice

this death will be the life of me
patches in the sky
we used to call them clouds
before the bombs went off

[He/She as appropriate]

Of flesh and blood
that nature gives to our breath

there's a man
on a train
with his head
in his hands

he entered the room as if rice was about to boil over,
seeing faces of those he didn't recognise look as though
they were reading the last line of a book they never read
before, staggered, asymmetrically pensive in times during

These walls are my sanctuary
guarding me, looking after me
stopping me, restraining me
my prison but my safety


you always said there was something
about the trees, and mountains peaks
were good places to sit, tuning in TV
sets as though we held the world, or

placing a pen upon the desk
aligned with paper
grooves of wood and knots in stain
as if absorbed in thought and mind

Live to die for rebirth
Rebirth live to die for
For rebirth live to die
Die for rebirth live to

I was fine in my bubble
just some Moses in my own parting
and yes, you ruined my thoughts
and spun me in antonyms

…I stoned the lord of death to death
we lye, now, side by side


I took you back to my poem
we made words all night long
to the rhythm of the trains
on the track by my window


another man, another day
same abyssal time
I could see a shattered haul
an early tune, flailing,

Clive Culverhouse Biography

UK. Lincolnshire poet. Ex-paramedic now working in mental health. Clive's poem Another Day At The Office made the Long List of The Plough Prize for Poetry 2017. He has had poems published in poetry magazines such as Popshot Magazine. Clive has an interest in nature religion, of life, death and rebirth - the cycle of nature, the Eternal Return, and that we live our lives over and over, a thought that features in many of his poems. The universe and the earth often represent the female role in his poetry. Plus Clive enjoys the magic and mysterious realms of realities that make up our multiverse. Clive also writes upon reflection of his time with mental illness, of depression and anxiety, another frequent subject of his poems. His poetry inspirations stem from poets such as Robert Graves and in particular the brilliant Leonard Cohen.)

The Best Poem Of Clive Culverhouse

If The Flames Do Not Turn Your Bones Into Ash

If the flames
do not turn your bones into ash
your bones will rot
deep in the ground
but only for Them
for You'll come around
and as They're carving into stone
You may walk again
through countless fields
and endless roads
They will remember you
for only a blink
of the Universe's Eye
but the fields and roads
shall know You
for all Eternity

Clive Culverhouse Comments

Clive Culverhouse 11 June 2020

great comments received on social media for my poetry on Instagram: " Awesome" " You have a great talent.." " Keep up the great work.." " Beautiful expression"

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words express but poetry liberates

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