Category: memory

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Looking for Monday / February 12 / 2024

Architecture from someplace or another elsewhere.
Cracks between the clouds,
five to seven everyone is there waiting,
everything stayed,for something.

Moments ceased over the weekenders, paused, sitting tight, lying low.
Now, holding phones, looking for Monday morning's push.

By Emmy Horstkamp 12/2/2024

This morning I wrote four poems. The poem above is from the longer Storeyean poem.

Because my commute was longer, I left some of the calendars at home and decided to write those poems in my regular notebook. All of the photographs for the poems will be printed on stamped later in the week.

Today transformed into a sunny day.

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Conversations / February 7 2024

Informal eight Commute
full of noise and bikes;
Looselipped conversations.

by Emmy Horstkamp

This morning, I commuted to work three hours later than usual. The crowd at the later time is different. The commuters sat together and talked during the trip, a little like the early afternoon commute.

They talked about work and other things which happened the day before or that day. I heard their words while standing near a bunch of foldable bikes. Someone was talking about the bikes and saying that if the queen stood next to a bike, the person might lose the bike if she stood by a bike, the bike could possibly be hers. So if the queen was standing like I was next to his or her bike, the owner of the bike would have to wait to see if the queen walked off the train with the bike or asked him to assemble the bike and then rode off on it.

I realised after hearing this conversation that there is a little bit of risk owning things in the United Kingdom. People of the Aristocracy or the Monarchy could ruin your commuter day by just liking your bike and inferring that they want it.

I promise the universe that if I want a second bike, I will go to the store and buy it. I will never take a bike away from someone except in an emergency, and then I would pay you for it. Promise.

No crying eyes ok.

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Waves / February 6 / 2024


Maybe it’s raining.
The wind blowing at the office building,
“Water damage,” said the guard.

by Emmy Horstkamp


The waves from the Thames
Pigeons fluffed on the walkway
Cobblestone bypass.

by Emmy Horstkamp

The poems above were written while walking to an office along the Thames.  The walk between one office space and another took me past the Tate where a group of birds were sleeping on the onramp to the bridge.  I walked as quietly as I could around them. The group of twenty fluffled their feathers but did not walk or fly away.

This area of London is quiet before eight and I walked to London Bridge without having to stop.

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Say it / January 26 / 2024 /

Say it Gale gust.
Bike weather delayed now
wind and rain pounding the train.

by Emmy Horstkamp 26/1/2024
Storey Tarris UK – Commuter Series 2024 – January 26, 2024

This morning the walk to the station was a moment between gales. Reaching the platform, the rain gusts threw rain horizantal and soaked only half of the platform. There were a few people sitting on benches, a few people standing in the rain and a few standing on the other side of the platform which stayed dry.

The poems for today focus on the rain starting and stopping with the wind.

-Look right-
Streaming rain against the windows.
The train is faster than the rain.

by Emmy Horstkamp 26/1/20024

Full-moon-set illuminating  the morning for split-seconds.
Three minute deluges stopping a moment.
The beginnning of a simple day dry.

by Emmy Horstkamp 26/1/2024