"plastercine" poems
where is that Dettol cream
to soothe these burns
tearing up my fragile skin
can’t handle these
children in conversations,
at the dinner table, like Pinot Noir
a stain on the embroidery,
what has happened to the Panadol
on the twelfth shelf of the walk in pantry
we’re all going to throw a *****
it’s all plasters, plastercine
playdough, dresses with cheap
cliché’ commercial slogans -
such a numb drum melody,
the top shelf
of every pantry is a *****
might as well lend a little
helping hand, sponsor a child
charity
Oct 27, 2013
Oct 27, 2013 at 2:59 PM UTC
spit on molars
It was something my gran had said
and had always stuck with me
how she didn't care for love
and made it very clear
I just think she never knew it
a frail woman
whose dog preference was large
in order to exert authority
over an entity
more powerful than her own
she told me of how
she would push any man out of her bed
never sleeping a night in arms
yet here I am
clutching your body
tight to mine
in a hope we may
morph together like plastercine
the bed but a plinth
for us to lie
as people look upon our final form
and as you step
onto the train from the platform
our limbs form strings
as we are dismembered
like spit on molars
Apr 13, 2017
Apr 13, 2017 at 7:49 PM UTC