Gol Gumbaz

Today, we visited the Gol Gumbaz, a mausoleum to Mohammed Adil Shah. It is often referred to as the Taj Mahal of the South and I can see why. The building itself is simple yet magestic, with no gold nor seemingly expensive materials. 

The crowning glory of this place, however, is the whispering gallery 8 stories high. You can sit on one side of the 170-odd sqm dome and hear, word for word the words of the person sitting directly opposite as though they were sitting next to you. I’ve never experienced this before, but it’s something quite special to be a part of if you manage to go early enough to avoid big crowds clapping and whooping. We were lucky enough to experience this with very few others. 

We listened in, without understanding, the conversation of two old friends, clung to every note of a song sung by a man in Hindi, and giggled when a journalism student shouted she wasn’t so keen on a guy called Vinesh. 
Not many people visit Bijapur (Vijayapura) in Northern Karnataka, India but I would whole heartedly suggest you go if you’re anywhere within a few hours away to get up before the crowds and experience the beauty of the Gol Gumbaz. 

Here’s my short inspired by this special place:

 Gol Gumbaz
Ears to the walls

listening for the whispers

Of your love 

through the din echoing




©LE Purse

March 8th 2017

Indian Inspiration 2017

Finding time to get your mind into a place to write poetry can be difficult. Even when you’re out in the world seeing, tasting and touching new sights; it can take some space to tap into the tree sap of creativity. Hindsight really is best at times. 

So, here’s the result of my freshly tapped creativity:

Being by your side to watch your footsteps fall on the roads you’ve longed to tread,

And to look in awe at the city that once stood along the edge of the skyline

With arms long enough to reach the sun.

© LE Purse



poppy-fieldArmistice Day Thought:

To all those the world over who are grieving the last 6 month’s political events in the UK and the USA, remember our great grandparents, grandparents, and parents fought for freedom from segregation in race, religion, sex and class over the last 100 years. We will not let this be forgot and we will use their energy for change and reform to continue to move forward and stand up to those who think we are not all equal.

My cousin, my brother, my sister

of every colour, class, sex and religion

stand by my side

and dare them to knock us down

for when they try and when they do

we will stand strong hands holding hands

minds locked together with determination

to keep building our community of people who see people for the people that they are

and not faces coloured by their origins

or chained to their class assumptions

or told the strength of their gender

and guided to the right god

We need people who see people for the people that they are


We need people who see people for the people that they are.

© LE Purse





Constructing a People’s Ideology


I’ve been gone a while – but now I am returned.

Let’s start with one about identity;

hope you enjoy:



the boxes that

we fit in,

are put in,

are locked in

from the moment we choose to open our mouths

hang around our necks, burn into our hides, and nick at our wrists

they can remain intact,

bound up with bands made of elastic

or they can be ripped from corner to corner,

flattened out to be

a bed, a canvas, a bridge

they can be re-used, re-cycled, re-purposed

to be so much more

so much more than a box

that confines, constricts, contains

unless conformity is your game

then please, use the box for what it’s for

and slip in to be whatever the poll says.


© LE Purse

June 2016


Catching up with Haiku


Image from here.

Haiku aren’t everyone’s cup of tea, I didn’t know they were mine until I read The Peculiar Life of a Lonely Postman by Denis Theriault. It’s a great little read, unusual as the title suggests, but wonderful. It inspired me to try writing Haiku. Now, they’re not great so don’t judge me too harshly but I hope you can appreciate their form.

I promised to catch you up with some of the poems I wrote in February as I wrote almost one a day as I found my writing groove again.

They’re from 3 consecutive diary entries so are about various topics but I’ll leave deciphering their muses up to you.

Haiku: February 19th
My enemy is
The paper thin printed kind
That’s passed round and round.

Haiku: February 20th
Watch your words dear one
For we’re not afraid to bite
Like ravenous sharks.

Haiku: February 21st
I breathe in deeply
Drawing in salty sea air
I breathe out my fears.

© LE Purse

Weekend’s Over


Weekend’s Over
Rubber necking
weekend’s events.
What happened and where?
into the next,
and the next,
and the next.

Sunday 13th March

© LE Purse

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