The Sighting is the latest book of poetry by author Clive Atkins. This collection has something for everyone. It tackles everyday situations which we all experience and can relate to. He explores relationships, love and lost love, growing up, social injustices, environmental issues and the humorous side of life.
Clive's musical influences can be seen in his Writers' Forum prize winning poem The Rap and in the The Record Poem which consists entirely of song titles (see if you can identify the song title and the artist). The diversity of subject matter can be experienced in the humorous poem My First Car and Duckworth Lewis Strikes Again juxtaposed with the haunting composition The Sighting and Living on the Edge which explores the results of the young drug taker.
The Sighting is available from Authorhouse or Amazon.
ISBN 1 - 4208 - 1050 - 2
Or it can be ordered by e mail at clive.clivespoetry.com
The brand new book CLIVE'S HIGH FLYING POEMS is now available and is available as a KINDLE download or as a paperback. The paperback version is available on www.lulu.com and it will be available on Amazon in the next few weeks. ISBN number 978-1-326-64937-1.
Here is a poem from my book The Sighting. The book contains over 100 poems covering a wide range of everyday situations which I hope you can relate to. Full details are available below.
Eyes that glow as twilight fades
Summer disappears into an autumnal haze
Green leaves give way to a gold and crimson phase
The fruits of the harvest are ready to be praised
A full and wholesome moon shines with clarity and might
The bright white light dances in the dead of night
And shimmers off frozen dew with intensity so bright
And reflects in the kerb side puddles like twinkling fairy lights
Driving quietly in pitch black without a sound
Staring intently while eating up the ground
Concentrating as inert thoughts in my head abound
When suddenly a large black shape is eerily around
Was it a shape or an object more solid?
Did it have a tail or was it animal bodied
Definitely feline, large and almost torrid
Was it a trick of tired eyes or the beast most horrid?
All poems on this site are copyright of the author