There have been poems that I have not made available on the Internet. Bearing in mind this limitation, my poem(s) may be found at the following URL: https://trust-in-jehovah.tumblr.com/tagged/poem

Publications

My poem(s), which I authored under the name "rogbeer", has/have appeared in the following (digital) publications

• 'Tilde.town: 3'. Editor: '~mio' . (2019). p. 16. URL: https://github.com/tildetown/zine/blob/master/issue_3/zine.pdf . Accessed URL on twenty-eighth of January 2020.
• 'Tilde.town: Issue 2'. Editor: '~jumblesale'. (2017). p. 12. URL: https://github.com/tildetown/zine/blob/master/issue_2/zine.pdf . Accessed URL on twenty-ninth of September 2018.

Selected poems

No, my trip to the
sea-shore
wasn't a dream
See-
The sand on my feet-

Away to (hopefully) safety: A poem, written after reading Loung Ung's "First they killed my father", set in Pol Pot's Cambodia, rife with the "not-nice" Khmer Rouge, "destroyers of things"
Wordlessly,
I smacked the coffee-stain
on its rump-
And checked-
Was it gone?
Maybe, the sea - where I had sent it to - was not its home,
but then,
neither was I;
Or, I could no longer be

I’ve made markings on the shore
You’ll have to go there, before
the next time of high-tide,
If you want to see it -
You know the sea will devour it
Ain’t that like Snapchat without
The electricity?
You have… Twelve hours,
Maybe?
What?
You’re avoiding the beach,
You want to see it on the SnapMap
While you commute on a public bus,
And even then,
You might - might - decide not to give the SnapMap
Any attention,
You’re busy clucking at the bus-driver while
He jerks the bus perversely along?
I don’t trust
You
Nor your fickle
Attention
I- I’ll thank God
For the sea
For the sun
For the wind
For the sand
For the little child, shrieking in delight
As the waves roll in
I’ll pray to God
To make me his wife
We’ll marry, if He is willing
And then,
And then,
I’ll pray for you,
That you’ll have food
When you’re hungry
And water
When you’re thirsty
And then,
I won’t see you
I won’t be on the SnapMap
You don’t need to thank me
I’m your (unworthy) servant,
A hopeful wife of God,
Servant of God,
Child of God
(I don't mind being
A door-keeper in God’s house,
Either)
Not a lioness of God,
Sylvia Plath said she was one,
And then she committed
Suicide