circles became wolf.
wolf tears at hip.
hip turned to shreds.
shreds like glass.
glass bites palm.
palm bleeds to see.
see circles smaller.
smaller like moments.
moments drop like stones.
stones i capture.
capture this ache.
ache turns threads.
threads pull tight.
tight like knots.
knots bind wrists.
wrists i tame.
tame takes brush.
brush paints circles.
circles became wolf.
*41/100: For the next 100 days, I’ll be writing and posting a poem every day.
**All photos are mine, taken with an Olympus E-M1 MarkII and edited with Lightroom Classic
Bridgette Tales 
I enjoyed circling with you Bridgette 😀
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This is powerful and haunting in its simplicity. The way circles become wolf, wolf becomes wounds, wounds become threads, and finally threads become art creates a fascinating cycle of pain, struggle, and transformation.
Every short line feels like a heartbeat—sharp, fragmented, and deliberate. I especially love how the poem comes full circle with “brush paints circles / circles became wolf.” It suggests that what hurts us can sometimes become the very thing we create from.
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rest that hip to take a breath, Bridgette 🩷
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BTW I was impressed with how the Alexandra Stadium looks these days. I remember the days it was just coming out of the ground as I played cricket at Aston Manor down the road. Seems they demolished the original stadium last year. Roy McCarthy07797 741218
Sent: Monday, August 10, 2026 at 11:36 PM
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