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Pastel blue sky longing to
Hang over wheat;
There is only grass.
Green with envy at white clouds as
They pass.

                  (A different journey)

Poplars strive to touch
Shrunken, grey clouds that
Recoil at the very sight.
Ah, the plight of an
Innocent gesture.

               (Nowhere else to go)

Wind snears:
My train moves it so.
Grass is merely in the past
As I am slung
To and fro.


The seat next to me is empty. A passenger of invisibility kindly agrees for my bag to rest on their featherlight lap. Reservations elsewhere have been made.
Durham can wait.


In my lecture, there were four empty seats next to me. All other rows were full.


Last Monday, I got ****** at Stone Roses Bar. Stumbled along to ‘I Bet You Look Good on the Dancefloor.’
Hands were all over me:
Creeping and

                     Why is it that when
I want company, it flees?

When I embrace

             It molests me.
Gale looked outward.
Stared dead at the tyrant approaching.
The wind did not chill her;
She chilled the wind.
Haunted it.

Whenever it blew you could be sure
She’d be there, standing against it:

Standing like a poplar-
No, taller-
Drinking wine in the embers,
A tree that fought the enemy.

Cries carried on a breeze,
Watching the world
As it falls to its knees
Because Gale won’t be

She’s a force to be reckoned with.
Sounds of a generator and somebody
Shouting nearby. Reflections of
Blurred lights and a
Window playing television through blind slits;
This is it, this is it and
I shall embrace it.

Sewage surges below me and above me
Orion persists.
Should I take this as my glimmer of hope? Something
Of a trope belonging to my tragedy?
I shall embrace it.

Sitting in a cafe now, spilling
Tea on books and recalling my
Favourite of pages bound.
A mother sings a lullaby to unpacified baby, bittersweet
Melody of soft cries and
Soothing voice rattle against
Life’s ultimatum sits opposite.
I shall embrace it.
Claire Hanratty Nov 2018
Twisting the cap off that first beer;
Always the best but made so much better by
Sounds of Purple Rain,
And those you hold most dear
Talking about
Music and food and
Times in their youth.
The crickets cheer as we
Reminisce in the 'here
And now'-
Relaxed smiles
Clear the skies as
Night falls, whilst
Stars appear;
Lightly dappled on the ground.
A poem about my favourite place in the world
Claire Hanratty Aug 2018
I was travelling along a busy road-
Eyes opened and closed.
I had music in my ears so loud that
I could hear the sound of
Ringing with every note.
Way out of the window,
I raced the ****** train to Scotland
Up a dual carriageway and felt rapid
Time dispel all notions of
Going nowhere in life.

Then without a warning my world was jolted and
Came to a stand still.
The car was in motion but
I was trapped and uncomfortable as
I remembered that yesterday,
In your thoughtful, rash way,
You texted me from a tent in Leeds
Telling me that
It was over.

Grass looked so much greener on the other side
Of the glass, yet I was
Unable to let go of the past.
I thought to myself  
'This is not how I planned my life would turn out, at least not today'.
It then hit me that I can
Never plan to be happy because
On the days I plan to be happy I will Think of this moment and
Be sad.

Earth seems out of tune as
I lose the race through thoughts of you and
Begin to
Hate my favourite songs; I love you.
I should have known better; I can't decide whether to
Live my life and jump onto the train ahead or to
Jump in front of it.
I'm sorry I wasn't enough and
I could never be
No matter how hard
I tried- I know that God loves a trier but
Could you?

I'm in a traffic jam now.
I watch the sun become eclipsed by the clouds and
I wish you were
Romance isn't dead but I sure am
Claire Hanratty Jul 2018
A mug of camomile tea is best accompanied
By the gloam of a late summer's day and
The distant bleats of young sheep,
I find. Peace lies between
Two silhouetted trees, black
Against a blueish sky.
Claire Hanratty Jun 2018
I have never before been to Italy
But I go there in my mind;
Calling all the local men by your name
And observing no rapid tide.

I drink tea that gets not cold
But ever warmed by the arancia sun-
That soothes my paleness,
And makes me one.

And if I should ever die in this cornucopia of colour,
It would not be as I had hoped;
For Italy was a country to find together,
Not where I, alone, should *****.
Not quite reaching the expectations
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