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I know all about oblivion
Have weaved it into my soul
Made myself whole
With all of its holes
Lily Priest May 2021
High were the hills
That will climbed
But
My love, 
how spectacular the view.
Lily Priest May 2021
She wanted to travel
Unravel the world
Like famous explorers
Who's wandering was all the will to ask
If there was anything beyond the horizon
That they could see.

Now shes everywhere -

Frozen stare, pigtails and grey red uniform,
Tie needling south with the straightness of a compass
And shes lost.

Where is she?
Everywhere anyone turns
Trapped in the undergrowth
Where cans and cat **** go to pasture
Her wrinkled smile
Is caked onto the branches
Paper machet - ed and as brittle
As an old map.
She breaks apart like bread crumbs
That will never lead her home.

Have you seen her?
Not tumble weeding her news
Across the m2
Or pinned to a lamppost
Weeping her ink into the missing
like a watercolour.

Have you spied her?
Not tied with weak ribbon
to brown stalks who's little
Notes speak of hope
And other things, like Angel's and innocence,
The innocence shes frozen in.

Can you find her?
Not hopefully
Flying her flag of the forgotten
On the tv
Budget crew
Remaking her last seen
With shaking cameras
And discount queens of the smaller screen
Hoping for Hollywood.

Is there a tangible
Left to her name
Thrown as it has been across
State lines, and small places
That only the locals know.
She has Columbus - ed the globe
And she only left home
Walked down her drive
And disappeared.
Lily Priest Apr 2021
Clay baked, brown, red and white
In white hot heat
Points to sky, raincloud free
And sinking off into the hills
It goes on and high.
Weak legs on strong lines
Chalked toes and dry mouths,
Breaking their belief
Shattering the smitherins into the atmosphere
In hope the gods will weep.
Watched a documentary about the Nazca Lines, and wrote this. It doesnt do the beauties justice.
Lily Priest Apr 2021
He had the echo of the wind about him
Wild with the freeness of never
Being tethered to anything.
He disturbed the calm trees
Bustled about their leaves
With some restless frenzy
That knocked their white blossoms
And trod them in the earth.
He knew nothing of the hurt
All the hopeless bareness of their branches
Split and splintered before chance
Could have them grow and splay
Into shoots,
new and green with a
Respectable pride to their name.
How their babes would wail the loneliness
As he breezed on,
Head never turned
And never concerned with going back
The way hed gone.
Lily Priest Apr 2021
It was a hell of a day
Sun and shade
Chequered your face chess board
And I was checked,
Heady between sips of beer and silent
like the smoke rising from your cigarette.
It burnt ruby, and I thought of jewels
And all the beautiful foolish things
I would buy you,
If we weren't here on a tuesday -
Mid-morning.
The awning weeps weary drops
From the drain that hasn't been cleaned since the place opened.
It has the colour of dark ale,
I stare at the pale in my pint glass,
think of the half a dozen things
responsibilities and togetherness
That could be part of us -
But are sadly too vast for these shoulders.

You hold out the yellowed filter tip
Lined red with the colour on your lips
Messily smeared - like it was done
The night before -
But I'd watch you adorn that ****
With shaking fingers,
Wobbly with all the worries of nothing
And everything.
You shift restless, pale arms stretched
Across flaking bits of bench,
drenched a weak grey by years and years of rain.
I rearrange the ashtray
And you smile at me, gap toothed and tired
Vacant as the breeze just dancing through.

'I'm bored' your voice slurs,
Like the thin trail of wine down your glass,
The redness settles and colours the stem
Colours your teeth.
It'll taste sour if I kiss you,
But I won't. I smoke.
Exhale the burn, blast it to
The clouds that creep across the sky
Lazy like each blink.
The world fades,
Black then bright.
Black the bright.
I think there might be an epiphany in my lungs
That song of something exciting.
It dances with possibility and makes
Me fidget in my seat
Maybe
Might be
Could be
Possibly.
Expectation makes me shrink into my sweater all holes and broken stitches, that itch as I pass you the last bit.
You smoke it, flick it
And all the potential goes with it
'Do you want another drink?'
Lily Priest Apr 2021
The sun shower you special,
speak sparkles
Into your soul
Till you are whole
With all the hope
Of new growth.
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