Nathan, the youngest member of our Writers Circle, is a poet whose work lingers long after the final word has been read. Having honed his craft for many years, his poetry, while yet to be formally published, shows the kind of promise that suggests a literary breakthrough is imminent. His writing is unflinching, often exploring dark and uncomfortable themes, leaving readers with a visceral unease that is both haunting and compelling. The imagery within his poems is striking and raw, plunging into the depths of human experience and emotion with a fearless intensity. This is a poet who does not shy away from the difficult or the disturbing, and it is only a matter of time before the world takes notice of his powerful and provocative voice.

Below is a poem which Nathan gracefully agreed to share. Read to the end for a ‘sweet’ treat in the form of a haiku:

The Boy on the cliff stares above, watching the circling birds, as they soar.

Liberated. Alive. singing.

And the Boy wonders, if he can fly?

Can he be free of the fences that confine him?

He stretches his arms his arms out and waves them up and down, mimicking the motions of their wings.

He pushes a whistle, to copy the bird song. His lips dry out, not after too long. Reaching the breathless strained blows of hopelessness.

The Boy on the cliff looks below, his eyes following the running river.

Wriggling. Rolling. Splashing.

Thinning out, the further he looks.

As the river flows, undisturbed, the clear blue reflects the sun and bounces up to meet his eyes.

Wishing to swim with the sun, but doesn’t really know how, he merely stares and dreams.

Perhaps just to bathe in the streams is enough?

He stretches his arms out and rotates them forward, forward, forward, just as They taught.

Then, he wets his lips, to whistle a constant tone, mimicking the running river. Until again, his lips run dry.

The Boy on the cliff, noticing a gap between the fences, takes a chance and slips away.

Now truly outside, now at the edge, he feels the wind against his back, as if urging him to choose.

The Boy on the edge,

Looks up

Looks down

As They sound the siren and call him back, he stretches his arms out and he whistles…

To fly with the birds?

Or

To bathe in the streams?

Nathan’s haiku is titled: Embers of Love

The embers of love

Red hot and float through the sky

Hoping to burn me