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Isabel Sykes Dec 2014
I foot the curb
Talons to the Tarmac
A basket on one winged arm
Full of eggs
Golden crested angel
Melting in the streetlights

And folded neatly on my back
These weapons
Terrible, shimmering scale overlaps
shimmering scale, gold
Red
My nest is well feathered

Ink blot melts into the landscape
Hunter's eye is not thwarted
I see every passing car
Flaunt it's lurid lemon eyes

And I flash them each a glance
That they may turn to marble
Beneath their seat belts
Still claw the curb
My brilliant beak tastes
The vibrant tang of every human breath

Tell me, how could I desire
That hot metallic race
When I stretch out my burning, molten wings to the sky and see
The reflections of a thousand silent stars dance?
Isabel Sykes Sep 2014
Cast your beam so bright over me
And watch my body writhe, and twitch, and sizzle on the concrete until I am forgiven. Ne'er an eye has bade me plead, the unrelenting yellow gaze is enough. And so it festers, in the pit brimming with adoration I drown, down, even the Dead Sea lets the undeserving fall from its grip. Tell me how and I will not hesitate, hush the voices and gladly I will turn an ear. Until then judge not, look not. I burn enough.
Isabel Sykes Sep 2014
Farmed out at the age of four
The endless corridor does wait
Behind the hefty oaken door
Narrow, silent, ever straight

Your parent's best intentions breed
Enthusiasm to embark
But snobbery and sickening greed
Are hidden in the musty dark

Your growing mind is kept well fed
On knowledge pumped in through the walls
But sadly it remains quite dead
Confined to those corrupted halls.
Isabel Sykes Aug 2014
Young love is not a straight line
A fairytale story or a
Nursery rhyme
It's not always plain sailing
Sometimes you have no boat
And the sea isn't placid
Not everyone floats

Young love is not the sunset
On a pretty postcard
Nor the fresh untrodden snow
That covers your backyard
It's not the fullest moon
Or the prettiest scene
The lakes are not crystal
And the hills are not green

Young love is

Baffling
Bewildering
Bizarre

Young love is abstract art
It's your missing two front teeth
It's not the perfectly done makeup
But the blushing underneath
Young love is tangled bedsheets
Tangled hair, tangled mind
It's beautiful imperfection
And its difficult to find
Isabel Sykes Aug 2014
When I envisage my mind
I think of myself
In a vast forest
Making my way through foliage
Steadily, and the path never ends

There flowers beauty and knowledge
And trees of growth and potential
Stretch up further
Than my eye can see
The forest breathes with me

There are bridges and streams
Some more treacherous than others
But each teaches me a lesson
As I cross with caution
And proceed, carving my path
On the other side

Now and again however
In my tranquil forest
There will be a thorn
Or a snake
Some little poison in my sanctuary
And suddenly

I look around with new eyes
Leaves wither
Trees keel over and twist
Themselves into gnarled hands
Snatching at me as I pass

Flowers turn black and crumble
The way forward is unclear
And a deadly sea of thorns
And nettles block the path
I have left in my wake

Everything in this new world
Bites, scratches, hisses
Breathing is ragged and sharp
I am no longer the master
The forest recoils from me

Consumed by the charcoal black
I hate this place
So I curl up
Beneath the roots of a tree
And wait for this horror to
Pass
Isabel Sykes Jul 2014
Grey for confusion
Swirling mass
Of muggy clouds
Obscuring the vision
Clogging the mind like a drain

Red for pain
Sharp and firey tongue
Causes anger to boil
Frothing, spilling over
Blinding the consciousness

Green for jealousy
Sickening and poisonous
A stinging nettle
A putrid stench
Intoxicating, all consuming

Blue for misery
Pale lingering sadness
Deepening to dark and dense despair
Struggling, drowning
Life cast in melancholy shadow

Yellow for optimism
Light spilling through the cracks
Buttercup chin
Vision clearing
Airways opening

Orange for love
Firey and warm
Raw and natural
All encompassing
A sunny blanket

Pink for excitement
Butterflies, rose tint flush
Soft and tantalising
Sweet heady scent
Tickles, smiles, frees

Purple for contentment
Rich and comforting
Total satisfaction
A tender round plum
Ripened to perfection
Isabel Sykes Jul 2014
Ducky darling
Don't let people
Ruffle your feathers
It's not worth it

Ducky darling
Always beware
Of treacherous waters
You can lose yourself

Ducky darling
Don't get yourself stuck
In the mud
It brings you down

Ducky darling
Don't fly too far
Into the unknown
You could land in trouble

Ducky darling
Keep your beak
Out of other peoples'
Business

Ducky darling
Stay close
Keep your head up
Keep paddling
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