Author Archives: Bill Fitzsimons

I miss the thrill of reading to a crowd, that uplift to the ego when, aloud, my verses soar, dip, take flight again – no longer trapped on paper, and it’s then my poem may live or maybe die, crash … Continue reading →

I rise, a latter-day Phoenix, trailing thunder and acetylene flame in my wake, aimed at the broad acres of Heaven. Star traveller, space nomad, technology’s bright archangel, I will fly into God’s blinding eye, the blue eye of genesis. The … Continue reading →

For days the ocean has unleashed its ire, a frenzy born of elemental spite – winds have raged that will not cease or tire till all’s consumed in endless, blackest night. The waves break fiercely on the rocks, and spray … Continue reading →

Verb – an eager, tail-wagging little word, running wide-eyed between its bigger brothers; words such as conjunctions, prepositions. One of grammar’s doers, never content to lie supine, always knowing that action speaks louder than other words. Pronouns are full of … Continue reading →

My neighbour is an angel. I can hear her wings flutter at night, her celestial voice harmonising with the thrum of the universe. Each morning I open my door and see a trail of silver angel-dust leading from her house … Continue reading →

After the storm, a calmness will lay its cloak upon the earth. In a time of uncertainty and fear we must pull together. We must be strong with the strength of angels. Already, this time of terror has brought out … Continue reading →