Poetry: Selections from James Lilly

My Son

The visits become less frequent

Daily to weekly,

Time fleetly passing by

Witnessing my son become a man

He comes to share secrets, to confide his worries,

Seeking the answers, I cannot provide

I ache to hold him.

Watching him cry in the rain,

He knows I love him

But am I even there?

Longing to tell how proud  

I am

Witnessing my son become a man

From afar

Rain covered tears, mad stained monument.

Radio is Dead

All radio is dead

Silence has no memory

Eon’s of darkness

Mark of ash

Slipping through time

Remember you are dust  

Withered to once you became

Reaching zero more than zero.

On my Knees, not Praying

Cold in May

I am hollow, I have no soul

In the pit, my own architect

Home called days ago

No matter, amour-propre in bad choices
On my knees, not praying,

Never begging, comfortable in the rot.

James Lilley is from Swansea, Wales. He is a champion bare-knuckle boxer and a published poet with two collections (The Thousand Ghosts of You by Alien Buddha and The Blue Hour by Uncle B. Publications.) He has had poems published across multiple zines as well as short stories and flash fiction and was named Versifications 2020 Punk of The Year.