Gareth Culshaw – 2 poems 


Sticking the stick inside

prodding it for a reaction.

Then they sprawled out

like blood out of a wound.

They ran with time, broken

and lost. Some sprinted towards

our feet. As we stepped away

like avoiding incoming tides.

Some picked up white eggs

and carried them back to the middle.

There looked to be disorder, panic,

a building on fire kind of panic.

But all they were doing was showing

us how life really is. When our minds

are poked by the unknown

and we try and settle everything down.

Back then we could have learnt more,

instead of allowing their false impression

turn our fears into fire drills.





He liked to go the allotments

and pick worms. Fishing was a way

out for him. Out of her house,

to sit searching at the edge.

I hardly spoke to him, even when

we passed in the street. His hands

were always in his pockets,

and his lips fluted together

to whistle songs only he knew.

Last week I was told

he had been rushed into hospital.

Remembering the thick hedge

on the front lawn, wall high, keeping us

out and him in. I wonder where his rods

have gone and the float he would stare

at. Those times now reeled in,

as he tries to hook onto

the last bit of light.




Gareth Culshaw 

By Heavenly Flower Publishing

Bindweed Magazine publishes two anthologies each year: Midsummer Madness and Winter Wonderland. Bindweed is run as a not for profit, labour of love endeavour by an author/poet couple: Leilanie Stewart and Joseph Robert. Bindweed can be found at

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s