Voilà! – Vincent Edward Manda

The etches and scratches

On the once white wall

Were gone by morning

And tonnes of blank paper

Had had their potential

Robbed by droplets of ink

Spouting from tiny and hard

Plastic fountains.


With each step taken

Along roads, paths and dirt ways,

Dust was relocated,

Weeds bent at their stalks

And grass was left

A little less springy

While roads;

Under the constant stresses of pressure,

Conspired to create cracks and potholes

As the shoes on the feet of the weary

Caught the dirt of travel

And acquired those

Uniquely unsavoury scents that emanate

Due to constant use.


I looked in the mirror

To find a permanent line

That had only ever appeared

When I smiled

And a gray hair

That shouldn’t have been there.


It was then that

My manager called me out

On my lack of consistency,

As though I were a pudding,


Afterwards, the day truly began anew.


his name rhymes with ‘mince’. He’s rarely without a notebook and can usually be found next to the closest bottle of red wine. Previously a writer for The Roehampton Lane Journal.

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