It’s a random sunny Tuesday afternoon after school and
I’m back on the ground on our first day in Seattle skipping across sidewalk cracks in the rain bouncing like a pair of lips across your cheeks in the morning

We’re landing with foot splashes in puddles and just missing others experiencing a combination of cold and wet we haven’t felt before

We’re a fresh dose of happy rolled into clouds of grey like M&M’s in fresh cookie dough
As we just catch our ferry across the Puget and we’re on our way:
Allons-y, let’s go!

Handcrafted poetry by John M. Hines, February, 2018



Terrazzo and terre cuite:
the feelings so similar they provoke,
Synesthesia dismissed and folded into the feelings of being a deciduous leaf

Folded into the cement-lined polished glass
Magnificent colours of autumn
Scenes from wintering greys and ocherous browns on the way

Lost on the nature paths of a park northeast of the Hague
Imagining Van Gogh and Sien in the dunes of Scheveningen

Painting symbols of death or death Retreating:
In seasons of change
Sand blown into the paint

Those challenged descriptions
Make the poet want to spend the day
Folded into the tiny fragments of memory
Lost and found staring at the floor.

Handcrafted poetry by John M. Hines, October 25, 2017





Along the Thames along the Thames
The push of the World moving along
Barges pulling cargoes
Captains of Industry taking a break from lifting pounds to lunch
Pigeons puzzling over scraps of scones on the sidewalk
Poets taking pause to observe to breathe
To smell the fishy salty briny browns:
To feel the feels of the pulse of the City
Floating heartbeats aboard the Tate to Tate

Painting word pictures on a phone
After viewing Rothko in a room of Rothko’s
Crimson blacks and brownish browns
Subtleties of meanings wrapped in colour

Four seasons spread across the walls of a room inside the Boiler House Level 2 East with two and a half inch slat unfinished scandalized oaken floors that creak with each step whether sandals boots or soft soled walking shoes

As a young girl makes a game of triggering the alarm her father ignores
And a baby cries and a woman sleeps or meditates on the contoured teak bench
Arms crossed, crisscrossed arms
Within a view of Monet’s lilies
Floats floats floats
Along the Thames along the Thames

Handcrafted poetry by John M. Hines, July, 2017, London.




He left a bit of himself inside
Along with his shadow,
Umber-ish greys of yesterday

Peeking through the sublime mould of today
Like a scholar of the school of Structuralism

Pieces of concrete and the separate elements thereof:

Water, aggregate-rock, sand, gravel
And Portland cement

He’d become CONCRETE

And the

Shadowy dust landing on frames of Monet’s lilies
Rothko’s room of 9

Blown away by the lusts of patrons
For something more
Beyond the humma drumma of
Daily life cat call whistling
On Tottenham Road

Slacks set over the ankle
Sporting colourful
Socks painted over
Cloudy internal voices:

A memory to be returned to as the hours turned into days turned into months turned into

Handcrafted poetry by John M. Hines, September 1, 2017



Black swan tail feathers pushed up like the soft petals of a black rose
A day’s lazy walk through
Hyde Park Green Park and St James

Like the black epaulets of the Royal guards
Blue-green waters of a St James pond
Reflecting dreams in red white and inlaid gold

Self said
Soft spoke
Soul whispers of today and yesterday
Of the morrow wrapped in a dream floating
Down Diana’s font.

Handcrafted poetry by John M. Hines, July, 2017, London