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 Jun 2015 Julie Butler
niamh
Little whispers
reverberate like thunder
leaving devastation
in their wake
Lavender thoughts hung in her heart, airing
out her blood with the scent of daydreams.
She wanted to believe in love letters
but a blue fox warned her not to.

Handwriting is a dying art he said between cigar puffs. Even we know that.

She longed for the purr of an R, the double swerves of an S.

The snow brought her breath to life
as she stood by the frozen pond, staring up at the stars and she wondered



if she’d ever hold someone’s heart on paper.
Coffee in the mornings
******* afternoons
Smoking joints in joints
Listening to music
Every night by moon

My youth went up
As another puff
As another sniff , a wiff
And before I knew it
I was looking very ruff

I can't even remember
If I slept at all
Or who I was sleeping with
For all I see are faces
Their names I don't recall

Rosebud tripped on the step
Coming out the entrance door
She fell into my open arms
I would never be the same man
As I was just before

See most women
Leave their jewelry
Rosebud left her name

Rosebud loved the thunder
Rosebud loved the rain
She scared me like lightning
Laugh at all my pain


She never asked me if I loved her
She never said the same
She laid her head upon my shoulder
Said when you're gone
I will be sorely pained

Rosebud tripped on the step
Coming out the entrance door
And fell into my open arms
I would never be the same man
As I was just before

See most woman
Leave their jewelry
Rosebud left her name .
the gurgle of your laugh
   is mouthwash
in the bathroom sink
charging across beach
   like zips on coats
yours is red
   breath ragged
a tyre with a puncture
but keep revving anyway
   feet crash as bells
**** as waves
   cheeks like the Japanese flag
raspberry-ripple drink
this fizzy petrol
   makes us buzz
our vehicles rumbling
   full of three-dollop ice-cream
rattle of matches
in my back pocket
   hear the scratch-ffttth
as I let one go
   lob it towards the sea
grab your hand
swirl in a circle
   so we become smoke
swarming from incense sticks
   then we go back
the way we came
over our xylophone footprints
   if they could chime they would
me and you now froth
   spilling down the side of a pint
dialogue luminous
as a blue margarita
   ankles chatter together
ladder on your tights
   and we sail in bathtubs
to where we’ve never been
wearing sunglasses shaped
   like briquette-black hearts
Written: June 2015.
Explanation: A poem written in my own time, not based on real events.
The poem was written without a great deal of thought, but deliberately contains unusual imagery.
The title is a line in the song 'Hiding Tonight' by Alex Turner, which featured on the soundtrack to the movie 'Submarine'. My poem is very partially (emphasis on 'partially') inspired by a scene in the movie in which this song plays.
The night before, she whispered,
"The quickest way to break a heart
is to pretend you have one."

Howling,
like you've never heard before.
And she sat next to me, radiating.
Her body jumped with every bump,
as foam blossomed out of her mouth.

And I promised her
that I would get her there in time.
And her dealer promised me
he didn't give her anything.

Howling.
I was howling,
like you and I have never heard before.
And her glazed eyes would open.
And my eyes were wide shut.
Her body lain crooked,
like the antenna of the wrecked car
my grandfather left me.

And I wondered if the planet
was moving too quickly
or if I wasn't moving fast enough -
before I decided the only time
that was real, was now.

Howling.
The police sirens were howling,
like the suburbs have never heard before.
The wails were begging me to pull over.
And the flashes of red and blue
danced across her ivory skin.
She mumbled to her deceased grandma,
and I asked her to stay.

And in that moment,
I tried to numb myself.
I tried to detach
and let the river carry me.

Howling.
I was howling,
like the deputy
had never heard before.
I begged for an escort.
I begged to go back into my car.
He looked at her knotted body
but didn't see her like I saw her.
And he told me to remain calm.
He told me to stop yelling -
but I couldn't express enough.
I couldn't release enough desperation.

And the river carried me
to the rocks before the fall.
At the bottom, I knew she was dying,
and this killed me, most of all.

Howling.
I was howling her name,
like she had heard before -
but not this time.
No, not this time.

The night before, she whispered,
"The quickest way to break a heart
is to pretend you have one."
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