Stories & Poems ~Poems

~Endurance Foundering

Wrapped up like Shackleton in the cold of my flat,

my only adventure to the toilet and back.

I keep shovelling the bills away from the door,

despite my endeavours, there’s always some more.


Hopeless & helpless, I am lost to the living,

I think of the dead and now am forgiving.

I wait as a photograph, frozen with fear,

bracing myself in the bite of the air.


Oh come friends, be quick: bring me provisions,

a job and some money, if God be so willing.

Throw open my door and conquer the ice:

a hug and a smile– and a tea would be nice.


a mushroom poem

©Carl Ross

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