You Don’t Complain by Ian Lewis Copestick

You Don’t Complain                 For C.E.B. One thing I’ve  learned is that you don’t complain. You’ll never win, so you don’t complain. They were going to charge me with assaulting an officer. Yeah, I hit his elbow, real hard with my nose. But whatever you do, you don’t…

The 2020 Red Hot Lockdown by Ian Lewis Copestick

The 2020 Red Hot Lockdown Well, it’s now official, this is the hottest spring there’s ever been. Yes it’s been quite special, a red hot lockdown, the first we’ve seen. Also, hopefully the last, although no one knows just yet. I hope this virus will be part of the past, something we’ll sooner or later…

All The Joys (Of A Summer Night) by Ian Lewis Copestick

  All The Joys         (Of A Summer Night) Pure, pale blue sky, little, fluffy clouds, grass  as green as anything seen on a movie screen. Birds singing in the background, but I don’t know the type Singing for seed, or singing to breed, or just for the beauty of the night. Bright flowers to…

V.E. Day by Ian Lewis Copestick

 V.E. Day It’s V.E. day, well the 75th anniversary of, and its a beautiful Summer’s day, and the streets are full of people, barbecues, drinking, and loud, awful music. It’s a good excuse for a party, I for one will always celebrate kicking the shit out of fascists, and it’s a great excuse to ignore…

Close To Home by Ian Lewis Copestick

Close To Home Now, it’s hit close to home, a friend of mine has died from this fucking disease. I’m not going to pretend that we were close, I’m not looking for sympathy. I’d hardly seen him at all since school, but I’d still call him my friend. We used to sit next to each…

Dear Old Blighty by Ian Lewis Copestick

Dear Old Blighty I think these must be my favourite evenings, peaceful vibes, blue skies, the sun slowly setting as the birds warble away. It’s like the start of an Agatha Christie book, almost a cliche of olde England. Except for the sun reflecting off the windows of the council houses, but even that’s beautiful….

Freeloaders by Ian Lewis Copestick

Freeloaders He woke at about 10:30. There was no point in making coffee, he was out of milk and sugar. Black coffee he could drink, but without sugar ? Yuk ! So, as soon as he was dressed, he was out of the flat, down the stairs and out. Heading into town. As he walked…

Interesting Times by Ian Lewis Copestick

I suppose this it what it must have been like to have lived during the war, or the depression. With shortages and rationing, worry and fear. For me, it’s the first time that I’ve ever been to shops and seen the shelves mostly empty, and I’ll tell you what, it’s weird, it’s really fucking weird….

Pomegranate by Ian Lewis Copestick

I think, cringing of when I was at school, early teens, thinking I was the next Joe Strummer. A few short years later wishing I was ” On The Road ” really, I was barely able to cross it. Next, a virginal Henry Miller fan. Well, I guess I wasn’t the first one of those….

A Magical Time by Ian Lewis Copestick

I’m sitting here and thinking of when I wrote my first few poems. It was a magical time.  It was a cold, cold winter and I was working nine and a half hour night shifts in a cardboard box factory. It took me over an hour to get there, and the same to get back….