Angels Drown In Ink

by Ben Pickard   Jul 6, 2020

A confession: I have stopped writing my diary.
Why immortalise yesterday's noisy monsters
when the angels are so devilishly quiet?

With sadness, I saw that there were far more
brine-blotched lines amongst the heavy leaves
than sharp, crisp pirouettes of the pen -

why would anyone want to read words crafted from
and garnished in their own tears anyway?

I will hold a rose and devour its beauty;
I will not document the thorns that they may
prick me again.
I will make love to the wind
and remember how I came to rest on the rain clouds,
but I will not lament my precipitation.

Dreams desert us so very quickly,
while nightmares fester in our marrow;

and so - a confession:

I have stopped writing my diary.


Ben Pickard


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Latest Comments

  • 6 months ago

    by Kitty Cat Lady

    Oh Ben. Swoon! (and sigh). How I have missed reading your beautifully spun work.
    This piece is so multi faceted. The main theme (in my opinion) is one of religious guilt/confusion. You refer to angels, devils and confessions. Who are you confessing to?
    At the same time is reveals a wondrous moment of self-realisation ... if the diary entries are mostly sad, and reading them therefore makes you sad, and realising that most of the entries are sad - further adding to the sadness ... then the writing of it merely creates a self fulfilling prophecy ... so better to stop writing in it!
    Absolutely marvellous poetry Ben! :-) x

    • 6 months ago

      by Ben Pickard

      a praise-worthy comment, Kitty! Thank you

  • 6 months ago

    by Gracy Judith

    This is awesome Ben...deserves a nomination and win. Loved it! Devoured it whole :-)

  • 6 months ago

    by Brenda

    Beautiful Ben, glad to see this nominated.

  • 6 months ago

    by Milly Hayward

    Writing a diary can literally take over your whole life which is why I only write travel and holiday diaries. Now those definitely are worth looking back on. Another nomination worthy piece. Milly x

    • 6 months ago

      by Ben Pickard

      Thank you, Milly.
      I remember writing in a diary a couple of years back and actually omitting parts that I didn't like about myself and my actions. Then I wrote a poem called "Black Diary". I don't know what happened to it, but there was a line that read "To lie in your diary, now that is deceit...". Anyway, I gave up writing one not long after.

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