David Subacchi


 When the flames catch hold of the gorse it explodes
 Sending sparks flying upwards as it explodes.

 Then hurriedly we flee from the steep cliffside
 Whilst behind us the sky filled with smoke explodes.

 Sweating we pull up our collars nervously
 When a rusted, half-empty oil drum explodes.

 Emergency services rush towards us,
 But we look away as their anger explodes

 And I terrified still clutching the matches
 Smell guilt rising as my innocence explodes.


Days of Burning

In childhood I watched coal, sticks and paper burning
Safe in a grate, but sometimes a chimney burning

When laziness neglected to keep it brushed clean
So soot ignited with flames through the stack burning

And billowing black smoke, high above our roof top
Highlighted our embarrassment, our cheeks burning;

Then the flashing lights and curses of fire fighters
Summoned to extinguish out of control burning,

The wringing hands and sighs of those responsible,
The choking smoke filled lungs and the smell of burning;

Today the grate has been sealed and nothing remains
But distant memories of those days of burning.


 My love is like a hidden flame that's smouldering
 Beneath the surface writhing, burning, smouldering.

 Clouds of smoke rising above my head billowing,
 Strong heat slowly intensifying, smouldering.

 Soon my love will explode into a fierce fire
 Consuming everything no longer smouldering,

 Spreading rapidly, showing its tongue hungrily,
 A blazing passion that grew out of smouldering

 And I David look down after this inferno
 On the still warm ashes that remain smouldering.


David Subacchi lives in Wales where he was born of Italian roots. He studied at the University of Liverpool and he has 4 published collections of his English Language poetry First Cut (2012), Hiding in Shadows (2014), Not Really a Stranger (2016) and A Terrible Beauty (2016). His work has also appeared in numerous literary magazines and anthologies.
You can find out more about David and his work at