A poem by Alan Whitfield: Festive May


A poem by Alan Whitfield

Festive May

With cans turned on
alone I stand in the amphitheatre
Close to a power
I don’t understand.
Inclusion in something
I may once have walked by.

Eyes glued on the marks
spine tingling peaks of power.
A short burst.
Still quenching my new thirst.
Like a new life
to be so close.
Making you walk
inches higher than most
for the priceless projection delivered.

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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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