David Ralph Lewis

Poet and Author


The end of an era

28 May 2020 Category: erasure poetry

Taken from the review pages of Crack magazine, March 2020


Among the trees

26 May 2020 Category: erasure poetry

Taken from the review pages of Crack magazine, March 2020


May in the woods

22 May 2020 Category: photos

Trees 1
Trees 2
Trees 3

I regret to inform you the world does not require your attention, it is still generous with its gifts.



20 May 2020 Category: this was meant to be the future

PhaethonOfficial: We are here at the tenth Future of Computational Intelligence conference (#FCIC10). We sponsor a number of PhD students, excited to see their findings!

ProfSam: Key note in ten minutes. Still get nervous even now. Wish me luck! #FCIC10

ElaineEvans: @ProfSam You’ll be great


Some News

14 May 2020 Category: publications

  • I’m very grateful to have a poem up on Nine Muses Poetry called Imposter. It’s a strange little piece and I’m glad it’s found a good home. Check it out here


Virtual workshop and a poem

11 May 2020 Category: poetry

I joined a virtual poetry workshop yesterday run by the wonderful Tonic and wrote this:


First crop of the year

08 May 2020 Category: photos


These radishes distilled the sun, turning it deep scarlet.



03 May 2020 Category: erasure poetry


Taken from The Lanes listings from Bristol: In Stereo March edition- which feels like an artefact from a different world


Napowrimo 2020 Day 30- Burn

30 Apr 2020 Category: poetry

I expect these days to fade like
photographs left on a windowsill.
That’s the hope. The numbers will
blur, the weeks will drain of detail
and colour and I will be left with
outlines and vague shapes, glimpses
of faces in the washed-out clouds,
voices speaking through the hiss.

But I’ll remember the constant dread
every time the radio cut to a bulletin,
how the cruelty of those in charge was
too obvious to ignore. I’ll remember


Serenity Study zine

30 Apr 2020 Category: zines

I turned my poem from NaPoWriMo Day 27 into a little zine.


Napwriomo 2020 Day 29- Fragment

29 Apr 2020 Category: poetry

Today my mind is like confetti thrown
to the wind, like a website with every
space filled with adverts, all flashing
for my attention, like a river delta
as hundreds of tributaries race towards
the ocean. Do you understand? It’s like
I’ve drunk ten espressos and all I can hear
is the thumping house beat of my heart or
like I am dust in the depths of the galaxy
not yet ready to coalesce into planets.
You must know what I mean. It’s like I’m
a beam of light...


Napowrimo Day 28 - Guilt

28 Apr 2020 Category: poetry

The sky is a confusion of clouds
whereas just yesterday you could
see the galaxy spin. We are out
of coffee once again, the internet
is often on the blink and helicopters
are swarming day and night in hives.
The oceans are swelling, drowning
small coastal towns. The years are
now dandelion seeds in a gale.
I blink. Ten more have flown away.

All of this feels like my fault
somehow. I offer my hands as
an apology. You close my fingers,
pass them back to me, a...


Napowrimo 2020 Day 27- Serenity Study

27 Apr 2020 Category: poetry

After Solmaz Sharif

Bare toes curling over grass before
the dew is done

Satellites describing ellipses
falling around Earth

Pain au chocolat, black coffee,
a notebook

Bristol harbour with no wind
a perfect mirror

Ohmmmmmmm the fridge chants

Prompt was from AmyKayPoetry to make concrete images out of abstract concepts, following on from Vulnerability Study by Solmaz Sharif


Napowrimo 2020 Day 26- We Are Mostly Empty

26 Apr 2020 Category: poetry

As we tumbled through the void,
everything was calm and peaceful
if you ignored the constant drone
of spycraft. The air was pink
electric and crackled with potential

There was something struggling
within it, something hidden, unseen.

It shimmered in the air, made of
nothing at all, blinking on and off,
a broken sunbeam. It had walked for years,
over burning deserts, stumbling over
broken glass and sharp shingle beaches.
Whispers and noises from other dimensions
combined, a palimpsest of imagined voices.

As I surrendered, my head filled with...


Napowrimo 2020 Day 25- Some Advice

25 Apr 2020 Category: poetry

I wouldn’t open that door if I were you.
Last year I stored the Atlantic ocean
behind it, stuffed it into every corner.
I only just managed to close the latch.
If opened, the room will fill with brine,
the house as well, the streets of this
sea-level town all submerged and we will
sink down to rest on the carpet below.

I probably wouldn’t open that door either.
for you will see a short corridor, leading
to another door, which leads to a short
corridor, leading to yet another...