loneliness,
cold and empty as
the winter sun
it slithers in
the back of my mind
coiled around every
doubtful thought,
encasing them in a prison of
paranoia.
i wonder who i am in
your mind,
a withering flower,
a wavering voice over
the phone?
i am afraid of how you
see me,
how one day, my fear may
overflow, making me
unredeemable.
oh, how i try so hard
not to wither in your eyes,
not to fall or need
reassurance.
i try to be a fairy,
a maiden, a wonderful
mystery
but the spell has fallen away
leaving only myself,
and i have never felt
more alone.
Nov 28, 2020
Nov 28, 2020 at 1:19 PM UTC
i sometimes float
in the kitchen
wondering
where to go.
the time oozes
from every crevice;
the digital numbers
on the oven
fall away like weak
magnets slip from the fridge
door,
like my mind as i linger
on the floor, cradling
a cup of tea
yearning for an urge,
a drip of
inspiration.
but here i am, boring
as ever
filled with
frustration that frolics
and laughs,
telling me how good
i will never be
that’s all i ever do:
‘be’.
admiring others that do
more than me;
i am good at loving
and seeing,
but what will that ever
come to?
i sometimes laugh at myself
instead of being flattened,
i blow myself up
and burst.
sometimes i am plastered
against a wall,
and i give up
and blend in.
Nov 17, 2020
Nov 17, 2020 at 10:43 AM UTC
i close my eyes
as the Metro carriage sways
from side to side
giving off that constant
comforting roar
as it flies along the
winding northern track
that ends at nowhere
special.
i used to get off a Pelaw;
the platform there seemed like
a concrete field of possibility
where love was just
on the other side.
now it seems wide,
grey and pointless.
a forlorn nostalgia washes over
me as i pass Pelaw station.
it is winter now,
and the memory of those days
warms my cold morning
mind
as i wind past it
always looking back.
Nov 9, 2020
Nov 9, 2020 at 3:19 AM UTC
hot tea kisses nurtured
lips
and the morning is patient
and barely speaks.
cold hands are warmed
under bedsheets
and wordless admiration
silently exhales.
mundane tasks become
a thoughtful feat
and sitting by the fire at night
i flutter into a loving sleep.
gentle time passes
dotingly
for she knows of such innocent
longing.
satisfaction beyond peace embraces
day and night,
being is effortless here
there is no need to take flight.
Nov 4, 2020
Nov 4, 2020 at 12:29 PM UTC
dark’s peering into day,
wonder when the dew’ll lay;
time’s slowed as skies turn static,
least the hours are less erratic.
orange lamps glow
outside a misted window;
earthy rain’s falling hard
but fire’s lit and sky is starred.
sometimes mist deceives the eyes:
seen silent figures’ quick demise.
ocean spits over the pier,
almost as grey as the Wear;
lighthouse shines it’s steely beam,
illuminating the horizon’s seam.
heaven’s sealed with wrought dull iron,
far away seems unearthly Zion;
harvest moon’s not as vague:
illuminating an eight-legged plague.
crows spectate above and below,
you’d be surprised what they know;
change leers at every bend,
nostalgia seems an only friend.
the veil is thinner than before,
perhaps open is another door;
harvest season’s coming to an end,
fields of Elysium this way wend.
Oct 9, 2020
Oct 9, 2020 at 1:45 PM UTC
i dream of a sunday
morning when all is
quiet
and the duvet
smells of
spring air
you’re breathing softly
near my ear
and i can smell
the sweetness of your
sweat and your hair
i can see the
steam
rising from
our teacups
you groan and
twitch softly as you
dream
we swayed slowly
in the kitchen last night
and you whispered
i love you
in my ear as we
slept
i’ll never forget
i’ll never forget
i’ll never forget
Jul 7, 2020
Jul 7, 2020 at 3:18 PM UTC
keep the petals, even if they
fall from the stem;
never take them for granted.
be grateful for them.
Jun 15, 2020
Jun 15, 2020 at 10:47 AM UTC
morning: my least favourite time
of day, is made not so bad by
a slice of buttered toast and a
black coffee.
morning: when my hair is a mess and
my sheets cling to my damp
skin, is made not so unhappy
by the sunlight spilling in.
morning: when my eyelids are
heavy and i’m too tired to speak,
when my lips are dry and my
thoughts are static;
i think i’ll put the kettle on, and
sink into the day: slowly, slowly,
slowly, so that the hours trickle
away.
May 29, 2020
May 29, 2020 at 6:09 AM UTC
i’ll remember the sound of the
ocean gently lapping the shore, and
the sound of birds chirping - which birds
i can’t be sure -
i’ll remember my feet blistering, and the
taste of red wine
i’ll remember the blue 10pm sky
and two magpies giving a
sign.
most of all i’ll remember the restless
joy that i feel, my yearning that reels,
my eagerness to escape and
my emotions, slowly taking
shape.
May 28, 2020
May 28, 2020 at 3:02 PM UTC
washing’s drying on the line, dog’s
curled up in a sun-patch; i’m rocking
to and fro,
letting the time pass.
May 27, 2020
May 27, 2020 at 10:41 AM UTC