Blown Away

Les Wicks


Les Wicks has toured widely and seen publication in over 350 different magazines, anthologies & newspapers across 29 countries in 15 languages. His 14th book of poetry is Belief (Flying Islands, 2019).



Violent night, holes in light.


When I let myself go  I went.

For a while there was no trace,

not even an email.


Another marooned fogey upon the fields of Bali.

In town sport streamed live in the aussie bars

but I hate sport.


It’s been said communication & reflection have broken up.

They were never comfortable,

that couple in the briars.


Absence can be hard work,

jaundiced moon across the waves.

Upon my return discovered people


had been looking on me more kindly in absentia…

the missing troubadour, flawed parent & nagging polemicist

all now in washed tones. A book was likely.


There were pardons suggested

perhaps a sinecure at some modest campus.

I had previously been unpestered by fame.


Not that I was a remarkable homeless person

or an honest leader with ideas.

My ditties are not prophecy.


That time of solitude

self-scurry & doubt

didn’t make no hill of beens.


Know you wanted apocalypse from me

but I’ve now settled for a kiss.

Won’t regret anything.


If you want a secret

the trick is to make one up yourself.

Stand by your plan.          




As they raced past oil rigs & ruined crusader forts

two young men decide

the 21st century is a poem

& that they are brilliant.


A sea of wheat

becomes a sea of blood.

The unschooled die in pits of destiny

while bets are laid by minor visionaries.


Lines are drawn

across the rivers & fields.

Those lines gouge the ranges

& plough the children in their wake.


The east will rise.

The west will fight back.

The north is fat

while the south has diseases.