Wednesday, March 6, 2013

Three Poems by Felix Maple


I was blind.

You've gone.

Next to us,
an old manreads a newspaper.


English boys
don't show
their feelings.

I'm cold, in August.

Words have
been emptied
from my brain.


Fine as wine
So you really are gone.
Anyone there?
The flight of steps
leads to a dark-lit
wasteland of
humid bedsheets.

The room where
I died is where
you exposed me.
Cold, cold bed…

Thinking of Langston Hughes.
Life is fine,
Fine as wine…

Hey, Langston,
just for me:sprout a
symphony of colours
out of the sound of blue


Here I sit, dismantled:
ice cold lips
where sweet whispers
once were.
Sealed in spite.

Felix Maple is a professional geographer living in Paris, France. He was a volunteer paramedic for a while. He is British but has been living in France most of his life which is confusing to him. He teaches geography at the University of Paris 8 (Vincennes – Saint Denis) and writes poetry whenever he can. His work has been published or is forthcoming in Emerge Literary Journal, Red River Review, Visceral Uterus, Brevity Poetry Review and Eunoia Review. His blog is at:

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