Dissecting a space, Words by Alan Whitfield

The spaces pull,
Under my skin.
No surface itches,
Drawn to the light.

Inside the whale,
Shafts of white.

A nasal breech,
stale bleach,
Industrial fridge murder.

Christmas rush hush,
long gone.
Blaming lame public,
Purchase pessimism.

And you will stay no more,
No carpet floor.
A black corner.
No longer warm.


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Paris and The Sickness

Salon de locomotion aerienne 1909 Grand Palais...
Salon de locomotion aerienne 1909 Grand Palais Paris. Exhibits include: Monoplan Hanriot; Louis Blériot; Delahaye; Fiat; Gnome; Darracq (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Saint Germain
Saint Germain (Photo credit: Chad and Steph)

I for the last years have been in Paris at this time of the year for Paris photo which was  in the carousel below Louvre. It has now moved over to the Grand Palais, Avenue Winston Churchill in West Paris. I’ve spent so much time walking around paris I can find my way around it pretty much without a map. It’s such a beautiful place. I’ve only been there in the autumn I kind of worry what it will look like in the summer. I Love the place

Grand Palais a Paris
Grand Palais a Paris (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I miss you

I’m dull because where i am is dull

Too which a sort out was on and all inspiration gone

No seine left me sad

Toffee Eclairs beige pants and hat

only in Saint Germain can you do that

the tower base, leave me happiest were its flat

inspiration flows creativity

Take time to shoot the right line

The winter leaves make my heart wane

Self certification it wont happen again

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Viva Arriva (Part 2) A poem by Alan Whitfield

English: An Arriva Wales train approaching fro...
English: An Arriva Wales train approaching from the Holyhead direction (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I like to write on the trains even more so with the wonderful line arriva put on for our well-being. The train line runs from Manchester to Holyhead. It has captured my imagination on many occasions


Over the glasses you, know the type.
Thick set, yes you bet.
Strong view.
Dis-spite been mail led.
Express to impress.
Alluding to depress.
Still watching.
Tie tight, toe shine, bright man.
Scorning face, forming.
The vote box nation warning.
View forming, word watching.
You see him think, furrowed.
I don’t like you, I dislike that, get back

Or maybe I’m wrong…


Outside of Goldfish Bowl Poem by AlanWhitfield

It shows a distorted view of a goldfish in a g...
It shows a distorted view of a goldfish in a goldfish bowl. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)


This is about going to Australia boy and coming back of a man


What does that mean!
I planned the landing,
James sang.


That light took me back.
Walking to get out,
Miles in sun,
Ha, if I had a gun…


Never worked out what I had done!
The small print said fun.
You never really won
The Irish women was fun.


Calculated and out done.
You won yet to no-one.
Long gone…



In the blinc

Well what a Weekend. Dogged by technical problems due to the power timers in the lights. I had a good response to the poems in the Bird Boxes along the cob leading you into Conwy and my projection on the castle. Thousands of people headed to Conwy, North Wales over the Three day blinc digital artsfestival. inspired by the work of Alan Turing. Which took place in the evening after the Conwy feast eating extravaganza.

All the indents for my work were done by Ronan Devlin www.orieljeindevlin.com

This was up on friday at 3pm when i felt like the world was going to end. I had so much support from the people running blinc.


You can listen to all my poems here My #noirconwy that was projected from the bird boxes

My A5 Poem Projection

The highlight was seeing my face on the castle (photography by Roger Smith check out his work it here http://www.flickr.com/photos/roj/ )

I’ve reworked the projection for the small screen 🙂

I felt so much joy from the weekend after the stress and deflation from the hectic build up on thursday and friday. I just sat on sunday all night thing where I was this time last year. What better way to capture my feelings than I n a few words.

Of an eye…

 At the start of winter nights

Mist enhances light.

Cold soles warm heart.

The projection knights.

The homeless man,

He took it in.

Told me don’t fear the dark,

just watch the rain

I now can stride.

In the past I tried,

Ancient brick walls

Beam with pride.

Its drawing in,

Water on skin.

The streets feel.

The last night still

stoking the glow.

We must move,

Project our souls.

Now understanding,

By passing our goals?