The Armchair
Cenotaph of my loathe-quarry
lurks in the corner
ominous obelisk of misery-grey fabric
stained by stagnant-self
arms grubbier than a plagiarist in an inkwell.
It haunts my body
memory-foam cushions twisted
around my depression
like an alligator in death-roll.
If perching, it’s only for seconds
dread at comfort swallowing me whole
or falling over the feet clumsily
delivering self-recrimination
that plunges me into that dark brutal chasm
- again.
The armchair is a sound-hollow
negative echoes only
so I stay silent near its plinth
⁃ yet sometimes the pride in victory
my eyes hold
is loud enough to drown
past despair.
“I’m Paul—a working-class poet with a love for words and stories.
I grew up in Northumberland and now call Newcastle upon Tyne home, where I live with my wife and our madcap dog, Brody.
I’m old enough to remember the days of the pits, though not old enough to have worked in one.
When I’m not putting words on paper, you’ll find me creating something delicious (a classically trained chef), playing (trying to anyway) the saxophone, lost in a book, or exploring weird places, old places and new ones.
If you’d like to connect, feel free to reach out via email, social media, or the contact form—you’ll find all the details on the Contact Page.”
Paul on X, Instagram and Facebook!
Edit: Benne wrote this about Paul and his work in one of our feature articles!