written by: Peter Lilly
All I ever wanted was a mirage,
It’s easier to find than real water.
There are words you’ve not yet learnt,
The origins of your name and number.
There are numbers you cannot count to,
And they mean nothing.
All I ever wanted was to own somewhere,
Until I started eating my clothes, like a sentient moth.
All I ever wanted was to swot myself
Into something useful and inanimate.
But I realise, I am so much more
Peter Lilly is a British Poet who grew up in Gloucester before spending eight years in London studying theology and working with the homeless. He now lives in the South of France with his wife and son, where he concentrates on writing, teaching English, and community building. His recent and forth coming publications include Dreich, Wine Cellar Press, Green Ink Poetry, Macrina, The Minison Project, and Paddler Press. His debut Collection 'An Array of Vapour’ is forthcoming with TSL publications.
Latest posts by Peter Lilly (see all)
- Shellshock - March 24, 2023
- Imago Dei - February 18, 2022