Poem: lookout/outlook by Alan Whitfield


Smelling salts provoke senses

make me watch,

make me Stair,

as the ballet is performed.







The Humbug sheen

pulls you to its fulcrum

in and in,



Again playing,

moving your mind.

Pockets rise as it breath before me

reaching far returning near.


A Line so long straight

like a taught table lace.

Only when you look so far

does evolving stop.


Dark gray lightens

as black mass encroaches

still tight, but moulded angular

Does it come to great


Author: alanwhitfield80

Hello! I get about a bit so here about me first. I am a visual artist and poet who works within the context of fine art. My work is grounded in documentary, exploring the inner beauty of everyday life through various lens based media. Notions of nostalgia and social commentary are present, but from a definite northern working class perspective. Instinctively I exploring the townscapes of North Wales and the North West, often producing work that reflects the every day minutiae of life.

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