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| LETHARGY, DRINK, DRUGS... THE TOPICS OF A LOT OF GOOD MODERN POETRY - AND THEMES MILSOM EXPLORES |
Rhys Milsom is
a poet, writer, reviewer, creative writing tutor and workshop
facilitator based in Cardiff. He has a BA in Creative Writing from the University of South Wales and an MA in Creative Writing from the University of Wales: Trinity Saint David.
His fiction and poetry has been widely published, including in Wales Arts
Review, Litro Magazine,The Lonely
Crowd and The Lampeter Review, amongst
others. His debut poetry collection, Amnesia, is published by Onion Custard Publishing and
has been described as ‘…a frank comment on increasingly important
conversations:
youth lethargy, drink, drugs and notions of masculinity’ and states ‘the voice of the poems is a raw, transparent and open one throughout.’ Rhys has spoken and read at various literary spaces, including Dylan Thomas Day. He was awarded The Short Story’s International Writers Award in February 2016, a revered worldwide competition.
A View: Thomas Street;
Broadfield Close; Sleep
Broadfield Close; Sleep
Getting in at
2
a.m.
stinking of other
people’s lies and
a mouth with tinges
of an hour-old
cigarette
knowing that tomorrow’s
going to be
no different sort of
makes it
easier
to understand why some
dissolve out of it all
perhaps they’re not
so
cowardly after all
perhaps they’re the
realists
my father’s snores
remind me of
when I was
younger
in my grandparents
house with
the
T.V so loud
& the horses
racing for the needs
of the desperate
with my granddad sat
in his chair
a cigarette burning
away between
his fingertips
shouting at the screen
cigarette ash flicking &
blemishing the carpet
I’m on that
carpet
watching with a
golden Labrador polishing
my fingers clean
when the race is over it’s quiet
and the Labrador
sighs and lies down
my head falls on
her softly
breathing
body
golden splinters sewing into
my hair and
creased clothes
my granddad gets another smoke
10 minutes later
he’s
asleep
snoring like my father
the cat settles
curls onto my lap
tiny claws pin-
pricking
my skin
the sound of a car passing on the bypass
my father’s snores
I now know why
Sleep
comes so easily
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