there aren’t any tears
as I watch the days slip by;
commitments made
disappearing
alarm bells fading into luscious sleep.
there aren’t any tears
as I feel myself turn inside-out;
pain ripping through
raw like open wounds -
try to hold myself together.
there aren’t any tears
as gentle corners on my face
upturn and I swallow bitter
spite as it rises in my throat:
unfair:
there are no tears
the river’s flow has ceased;
but still I hear the rush of
blood beneath my skin.
Nov 25, 2021
Nov 25, 2021 at 10:15 PM UTC
I ran away from brook-side,
wrapped-steel around my heart.
I swallowed the hard pain of
an estranged child
and the lost sentiments,
forfeited.
I curled up and tended
to my barbed-wire scrapes
and grazes from high falls;
I stopped wincing at nettle-stings.
I told myself convincing lies -
and I believed I didn’t care;
but it was tears that stung me as they fell
to remind me of what’s missing.
And the sweet memories
“red flags just look like flags
through rose tinted glasses”
And the fright as I crept
From room to room
memorised creaks:
third step; tenth step;
My blinds are too loud, so I’ll freeze
Or I’ll just miss out,
I’ll text and apologise
For not being home;
Because there are memories there
Of impossible deadlines:
racing home until I’m sick
dry-mouthed,
Wind knocked out of me
Can’t go faster,
The fear rising as I turn the corner,
face the music !
Aug 28, 2021
Aug 28, 2021 at 8:44 PM UTC
echoing laughter emanates through empty tunnels
hidden from that safe red street lamp glow;
and I quietly notice how I am always a shadow
in the trees that move in the wind as they’re changed by the season.
A collection of lost souls I nurture and hold as I rock myself to sleep
And I can’t cry for them
any more than I can for myself.
The silent, gentle suffocation
which squeezes the breath from my lungs
snuffing out the candles
I meticulously lit on my way to my room.
It’s still and dark and creeping
and I feel the energy to smile slip away as I talk
Just as quickly as the uncertainty
which shuffles in uninvited
and steals the silverware from the kitchen.
An audience applauding the self deprecation Muffling the screams for help
As i’m invited to their table
but never quite loud enough to shout above the off stage rumble.
Jul 24, 2021
Jul 24, 2021 at 7:41 PM UTC
I am endless poetry that does not ever rhyme
Unwashed dishes concealed above as I ran out of time
Broken plastic flowerpots that house neglected plants
unpaid rent, unpaid loans, unpaid student grants
I am books I’ll one day sit and take the time to read
About caged birds escaped from homes who died once they were freed
I am fox bones weaved with gold thread, amethyst and feather
The rain and fog and cold and storm that dominates the weather
I am all the boxes that you’ll never have to open
It’s just as well because you’ll cut yourself on bottles broken
The white tipped waves bring treasures found washed up on jagged shorelines
I’m the sea glass tumbled, lost but glinting when the sun shines
May 31, 2021
May 31, 2021 at 9:32 PM UTC
anxious about eating
anxious about not
anxious about alcohol
anxious smoking ***
anxious about playing games
anxious about rules
anxious about oceans
yet swimming fine in pools
anxious about tv shows
and movies about love
anxious about growing old
and when pushing comes to shove
anxious about animals
am I good enough?
anxious about friends and foes
and all of the above
anxious about new ideas
new places and new routes
anxious about being seen
at all though that is moot
anxious about getting sick
and scary operations
anxious about other’s thoughts
and deep-dark conversations
anxious about too much joy
anxious about crying
anxious about thoughts so dark
that I’ll find peace in dying
anxious about doctors
anxious nothing’s wrong
even more that something is
fearing treatments long
Dec 26, 2020
Dec 26, 2020 at 2:46 PM UTC
that childhood game of desert-island
well I am deserted
I am standing on thick ice
but I never learned how to ice-skate
And the edge is coming ever closer
And I know how to swim,
but with icy shock will I be able to?
screams reverberated
how is it the thick set cliffs of snow stand firm
as if they’ve fallen deaf
Sep 4, 2020
Sep 4, 2020 at 5:30 PM UTC
It took someone I barely knew;
To give me the strength to look again into my
heart and find what I am made of;
The smell of trimmed hedgerows
sweet brambles that stick into my skin like
invisible tattoos
Warm air made tolerable with promise of a
cool breeze
Greens and browns of Robin's nests
Those cracked blue eggshells on the ground
The weathered grey stone walls
Trailing moss and small brown mice;
The red brick barrier'd field where I'd play
Watch the buzzards and red kites as they
hovered in the sky
The stolen blackberries;
Fresh and full of worms
Plump cherries leaving tell-tale pink-stained skin
Picked from an orchard at noon
I'm made of
Damson jam; sticky and dark with the stones
still intact;
Butterflies and frogs in jars,
Tadpoles, newts and spiders.
But I'm also made of darker parts
Away from the foxes and strange noises in the
night
Those same foxes I curl up around
And whisper my secrets to
Feb 7, 2020
Feb 7, 2020 at 4:52 PM UTC
And so I am here
Convinced by the hard floor that holds me
Twisting and rocking
Heavy waves against the shoreline
And so I come to my senses
Against seafoam-froth haze
My pulse is what moves me
Unsteady throb against the floorboards
Feb 5, 2020
Feb 5, 2020 at 3:19 PM UTC
Does it bring comfort to you
To recognise that midnight birdsong?
Mockingbird taunts
At your struggled slumber
Count those hours ticking by
That familiar insomniac
sweet-talking charade.
It is simply the robin;
Whose rest disturbed by flourescent street-lamp glow
Is not so different from your own
Jan 4, 2020
Jan 4, 2020 at 9:29 PM UTC
He was beautiful;
Tall and lean
A greyhound boy;
Upturned nose and cheeky grin
That knowing smirk
And a gift-wrapped wink
Not a cause for gratitude.
He moved like a dancer;
Slowly
Effortless charm that dripped
From his eyes
Like honey
So easily he charmed me;
Like how the leaves gracefully drift from an autumn branch
But I fell much harder;
Hitting the ground fast - paced
The ache covered by a false hope
That I clung to,
Not ready yet to drift from my branch
Then spring came
Full with chance
I realised my own worth;
And just like that the tables turned
For one night I was chased;
Deep kisses left with nothing more to desire,
The heavy bass
Intoxicating air heavy with smoke, encircling me again
But not captured;
Brief but I was free
I hope to see him again
Jun 19, 2018
Jun 19, 2018 at 11:11 AM UTC