"spiralled" poems
The burning flowers underline the sunset and
Dash before the fire (k)night catches them.
Ripe berries cheaply
tremble
but hopefully their vitality won't burst the pulp pulsating
beneath.
Crumbling flowers
crumb the floor
And Prisms of catching silver refract rose quartz and petal
and crimson
dust.
Bejewelled in Scarlet,
the air,
as the (k)night approaches, grows colder,
Unsure of whether he will bring
solace or strife.
In his chariot
he flies faster than the bees which buzzed around the fruit flutes
in the morning and among the trumpeting bluebells.
Stars fleck the (k)night
like freckles
and the milky ways resins stain his spouting steams lovely.
The (k)nights kind onyx reaches his crescendo and the floating moon danced drowsily through the cloud's spiralled tendrils
Which diminish as dawn
approaches
so their Tentilcles
droop to crinkled tissue paper sheathed in pink.
And so the (k)night
rides on into
The frivolous sunrise.
The lowing, glossy calves
in sage beside the ***** fields
cast a beloved ambience
As though
we are safe
in the knowledge
that the sky will remain
forever
topaz and the leaves
forever emerald.
Apr 17, 2014
Apr 17, 2014 at 4:05 AM UTC
The twilight of the day draws near,
The blazing sun is laid to rest,
And dimming skies let stars appear
That twinkle in the bloodstained west.
The once warm air turns cold and still,
Long drawn out shadows gently fade,
While birdsong that before was shrill
Falls silent in a soft cascade.
The rooftops change from red to black,
So too the rising spiralled wisps
Of smoke churned up from chimney stacks
And stoves of wood burnt cinder crisp.
And everywhere nights velvet brush
Begins to daub the landscape whole,
Descending with a quiet hush
That calms the nerves and soothes the soul.
Until the end when all too soon
The final vestiges of day
Are bade farewell by the new moon
Who cannot help but smile away.
Sep 26, 2014
Sep 26, 2014 at 10:40 PM UTC
The trellis of oak trees winked,
captured my soul in a spinney,
chalked whispers of free promises
breathy like a silken shawl trailing
Those wise men of old, withered
skin of bark, tall and strong, waving
their introduction. They bowed to me
in free form, in humble escapism.
Sun had stroked their warm palms,
fed them sweet sap. To my left a
stray leaf, rested amid invisibility,
caught the air train, and spiralled free.
Twizzled to the green painted rug
basking under my cotton covered feet.
Reaching out, it blew away,
I chased the freedom fields.
The brook teased it and set
sail under the woody bridge,
green from seasonal tears.
Lost sight as it spun the space
between us. The grass sprung
its beginnings in full Spring, tall in parts,
summer not yet wrapped and
ready to visit us, much less
invited to the summer ball
where shadows are ten a penny,
and sunshine bought on every
street corner. I am among spring
devoured in daffodil eiderdowns,
elbowing out the crocus, snowdrop
chandeliers. I seagull my way,
swaying in step with willow, blossoming
surprising myself, how I let go of
school day shivers, tinkering my brain
into gear for terms talking tightness,
cramming commas, fat full stops.
May 1, 2013
May 1, 2013 at 7:47 AM UTC
Gazing through the tallest
green nettles
I realized they do
not bite me
Cause it was not the day
for stings and aching
Cause i had the black
mountain boots
and a heart
on my
dim
dark
sport gown
My hands reached
upwards
the Heavens
towards
the white yello
Crown
of
Elder's Abundance
Where Scented Blossoms
Coloured my skin
And exposed my life lines
After
The coolest tangerine
Lemonade
I sat on the black soil
squished young grasses
and found the
tiniest
snail
baby
My palm was a giant Plato
For it's snailish leg
On the left one
he was without weight
portruding forth
to his destination
Is it possible that
his house was
3,5 mm
long
Isn't it cute
that when streched
was 7 mm
at lenght
Visible horns
like 1 mm
and half of it
The upper
The downward
Twotwo
Four
What are you looking at
My lines or me
If he climbs from my
left palm on the right one
It's ment to be
I'll visit the seaside
Fibbonacci House Spiralled
Inner layers with colours
outer still
and translucent
Is it possible
this tiny snail
thinks about me
It didn't work
It remained
on my heart's side
Then I moved this
cutest creature
on my right palm
Little little snail
you're not a match
to squeeze
From the right to the left
I thought to myself
he is she
i don't know
snail's so young
for sure it doesn't seek another snail
To cherrish and love
Yet
It
Climbed on my left thumb
Beautiful in motion
As a revolution
For better days
It is my heart's side
My vision became
Sharp
Clouds
Waffed all around on the deepest blue
White and puffy
Magickal
Metallic
Dragonfly
Emerged out of
Nowhere
Had landed on a spider web
cocoon
on the Verge
of Enchanted Forest
Where grave monument resides
Dragonfly
was in the air
the invisible wings fluttered
My sharp vision
focused on
another three
Blueish
camerades
They don't need los zapatos
They are not obsessed as
Imelda was
And i wasn't thinking
about that at all
This words are for you:
thank you for the music
but the dragonflies
buterflies I love
most.
They were near my
heart,
one caressed among
tall grasses
one butterfly
also
not in oslo
and
Fibbonnaci Friend
who gave me this
Sharp vision
To see the magic
revealing all
around.
May 25, 2015
May 25, 2015 at 5:14 PM UTC
A BIRTH
Twelve hours in velvet dark
I waited for your shaft
to penetrate my channel of desire
birthing purity and long lashes
You came without a doubt
Acacia branches making curtains
their feet digging deep for
the numinosity of life
Wisdom of Time feeding a
*********** into pink moistness
Deeply hidden thorns created
a serpent circle of protection
Descent spiralled into eardrums
eyeballs, silently swirling light
dividing with space, minerals
unfolding with Earth’s rhythm
Her sister shed joyful tears
for her soft arched feet
whilst ***** petals fell
for dainty fingers curling
As missionary I buried a sticky
cord beneath Acacia
Understood the elixir of truth and
your departure into shadows
©GhairoDanielsPoetry1997
Sep 14, 2025
Sep 14, 2025 at 4:55 AM UTC
*The cordons of existence are constricting
For the keepers of the dream have let us down,
Who will buy tomorrow if performances are hollow
Causing all the global spectators to frown?
American has been the silk pyjamas
Since ’45 they’ve lead the world’s display
In health and wealth and brandishing the muscle
But in recent times it seems they’ve seen their day.
For since Clinton’s time the National debt has spiralled
They’ve departed brushfire wars in disarray,
Default now looms obscene with disharmony supreme
With Congressional leaders ranting in the fray.
The fiasco of a Government held to ransom
By a faction of extremist’s from the right,
Whilst the greenback in decline won’t change water into wine
The dire threat of fiscal chaos causes fright.
So global confidence is fading in the dollar
And the watchers shake their heads in blank despair,
For the willingness to follow is now a bitter pill to swallow
When the USA’s rock steadiness aint’ there.
So, what’s around the corner for tomorrow?
What aspirants are waiting in the wings?
With a fading USA perhaps it’s China’s turn to play
Though that’s going to mean adjustments made to things.
Of course we’re venturing into territory’s unchartered
And the crystal ball consulted, isn’t clear
But one thing I can assure, if this is what we must endure,
Is that our tomorrows will be something, now, to fear.*
Marshalg
Auckland N.Z.
19 October 2013
Oct 18, 2013
Oct 18, 2013 at 8:01 PM UTC
To…
My best friend and lover.
Protector of my lies
…You rescued me
And ****** me to my fate.
Spiralled the dopamine to brilliance
In my mind.
To spangled halls of light,
Reflective light, and calm.
A golden calm
Of energised, invincible intensity……
Addiction is thy name.
Compulsion is thy talent
Up, up the trammelled pathway
From the innocence of a ****
To the chaotic expense of ****
Then to the dreamy, smoked Opiates,
And the scars of the needles
And magic of Coke & big H ?
And ultimately…
It’s all not enough!
The hollow inadequacy of it all
When finally…..
Nothing,
Nothing achieves flight.
Nothing attains the heights.
Nothing satisfies
Like it used to…..
No amount of money
Buys satisfaction!
Hopelessly
Into the Black Hole.
Down, down the trammelled pathway
And the body is wasted, thin
And the mind in misery,
And broke, utterly penniless,
Exhausted and spent,
Estranged and abandoned,
Alone, so alone.
Down the trammelled pathway
To the inevitable retreat
Into failure’s squalid,
numbing, bitter
End.
M.
May 31 2014
From the outside looking in.
May 30, 2014
May 30, 2014 at 6:04 PM UTC
Somewhere near to three years old in the hot dust of another country, a strange woman comes to me.
She is not like my mother but she calls herself Mama.
My family tell me that she is my grandmother.
This does not sit well with my infant self,
I inform them quite certainly that my only granny is across the seas in her big house of roast dinners and gardening and apple picking.
That was the time when I adored her.
And I vaguely remember haribos on a bed that wasn't my own
And streets that didn't know quiet.
Loud ladies who turned their attention to me
And sellers in the roads dancing between cars and waving their goods at my mother's inherently wealthy white skin.
And there were rural parts,
Sometimes the women didn't wear tops but that didn't matter as much as people think it does
And I separated the rocks from rice with this black imposter who insisted she was my grandmother.
My parents say she would place them before me to find and present them proudly-
She wasn't so much an imposter as a stranger.
And there was a shower
Not in the village but an urban area,
Where someone left a bar of soap
That my feet were too eager to meet,
Things spiralled out of control and I was heels over head, forehead becoming closely acquainted with tiles
Dented.
And marked.
To this day that skin stain remains on my forehead but I forget where.
Time gives way to more accidents and mistakes
I wouldn't say that my visit was a mistake or a waste,
Though I only remember dubious seconds of blurry scenes and the split between reality and imagination isn't always too clean,
But it wasn't a waste.
It was the first, but more importantly, the last time I ever met
That black stranger who called herself my grandmother.
Aug 12, 2015
Aug 12, 2015 at 1:27 PM UTC
Flowers grow through cracks
Cracks in the wall
Where bare brick has been torn apart by bare storms
Or steel ripped apart by a hurricane of grief
Cracks in the pavement
Where some people refuse to step
In the fear of some supernatural supernova
Descending from the heavens and ripping their mind apart
Cracks grow in places where there is nobody to keep them from becoming brittle
Things snap when they're left for too long
Like sticks and bodies and minds
That have had enough of casual use
Of beatings and bricks and careful abuse
Pain is beautiful
Is that what they told you?
Be proud of those wounds and gashes you painted
Show them to the world because your pain is beautiful
Did it feel beautiful?
When it was four in the morning and you were staring at your ceiling
Wondering how everything had spiralled in iridescent lines
What a beautiful thing it is, to fall
To fall from that crumbling platform you built for yourself
How lovely it was when your fingernails ripped
As you scrambled and clutched at the edge
And your stomach wracked from your mouth as you fell
Did it feel beautiful, when you fell?
Did you ever really fall?
Everything ugly can become beautiful
A thousand poppies above a sea of rotting corpses
Turning to a graveyard of bones
Flower heads red like the blood spilt on the dark soil
Drip, drip, drip like a broken tap
Slash, slash, slash like a knife slicing through flesh
And that muffled, drawn-out scream mixed with gurgling of blood
Bubbling from lips and staining them, staining everything
That garish, bright shade of crimson
And then a thump
Because the end is always the softest part
Even if you cling on, kicking and screaming
The tide will sweep you away and your voice will not be heard
Unless you can find a rock out in the waves
And tear off those fingernails all over again to just
Hold on
Flowers grow through cracks
Cracks in bones and cracks in minds
Flowers of that garish, bright shade of crimson
With those seeds of madness
That wind you up like a little music box
And twist you around like a clockwork ballerina
And when you break those tiny screws
It's all your fault
The flowers that grow through the cracks
Are the flowers that drive the nail further
Until it hits soft flesh
Down through to bone
The bone of cracks and broken screws
But you did it all yourself
Why did you do this to yourself?
Oct 15, 2017
Oct 15, 2017 at 8:22 AM UTC
I am from no place for I have never had one home
Having packed too many suitcases and saying goodbye to just as many friends
I am from cheesy Italian pizza in Melbourne to the smoke of shisha in Arabia
From raw fish and coconuts in Fiji to Aunty's famous Kiwi pavlova
I am from the aroma of coffee being breathed in my face as a child
And from losing my breath chasing dad as he drove off to work
I am from long, quiet chats with mother by the ocean
To ferocious one-way conversations as she screamed from the sidelines
I am from a family choir whose desire for perfection spiralled me into years of silence
And the learning the guitar to compensate so I wouldn't feel like an outsider
I am from laughter and I am from mischief
From throwing the sister's cat out a two-story window to emulating the Mask of Zoro with steak knives in the kitchen
I am from hours of swimming laps and hours sprinting on the track
I am from the dewy, green grass of a rugby field upon whom I have many times laid writing in agony
My body has eleven scars from the surgeon's scalpel
And I am a survivor of divine heart surgery as I processed shattered dreams
I am now in pursuit of change everyday
Change to be more like Him who took my sins away
Nov 20, 2017
Nov 20, 2017 at 2:59 PM UTC
The endorphins fill my broken mind,
the bleeding does not cease as the relief overwhelms,
my body convulses at the touch of the knife,
but the feeling is one of medication.
My mind is sick,
only to be healed by the small droplets falling from my wrists,
my pills a mixture of pain and happiness,
my heart beats loudly and my body feels weak
nothing will stop the feeling once it has started
no one will make me wish I had never pierced my flesh
my scars tell a tale of great frustration
years of being battered and left aside
My father non existent,
his replacement would make him choke,
without him I would not have spiralled
into this deep dark pit of depression,
he was abusive by nature but that's no excuse,
he ruined me for 16 years and im still ruined now,
left for dead on the side of the highway
a life saving operation I had rather left me dead,
Coming through the other side,
has yet to happen smoothly
and as I watch his evil eyes,
I collapse , never again to open my mouth
Mar 10, 2014
Mar 10, 2014 at 8:57 AM UTC
Like the tiniest of pebbles,
ignored by the cool fingers of the laughing brook.
Like the obscure cave...
So inaccessible that it never sees the light of day.
Like the move easily dismissed.
When the queen overshadowed the rook.
Like the kite that spiralled downward.
When its string snapped and wind refused to play.
Like the pothole that tripped,
simply because indifferent feet would only overlook.
Like an idea that never sees fruition,
when open minds are scarce and clenched fists scream nay.
Like hidden reasons that remains unseen.
When we judge by the actions we conveniently mistook.
Like consequential words whispered under my breath.
They bear much weight...
But I'm too afraid to say.
Aug 13, 2016
Aug 13, 2016 at 9:42 AM UTC
You remember that cow they told us about?
The one that jumped over the moon?
Well.
It never came back.
It’s hind legs were so powerful,
it’s hooves so sturdy
that he jumped from here,
on earth,
all the way over the moon.
All the way through the asteroid belt
past Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, and Neptune
and even Pluto,
that tiny little sphere of ice
those *** holes at the International Astronomical Union
declassified as a planet in 2006.
The cow died before it got there though.
Maybe because there’s no oxygen in space
though I’ll never be certain.
But his body kept on floating.
Still propelled by the force it left earth with:
a dead black and white cow
sailed out of our solar system
and into the Arm of Orion.
But the light from Rigel and Betelgeuse
chased him away.
Blue-white and red supergiants have that effect on people.
Or cows.
Even dead cows.
And so, our travelling hero, who I’ve now named Frank,
spiralled through 0-gravity
and ended up
on the other side of the Milky Way.
Cygnus. Cygnus’ Arm is what caught him.
Cygnus and Frank became good friends.
Who could imagine!?
A dead cow and swan made of stars!
How preposterous.
But eventually they spread apart
(as all friendships eventually do)
and so Frank was left without a companion
and drifted off through space once more.
And we haven’t heard from him since.
Feb 3, 2014
Feb 3, 2014 at 1:16 AM UTC
Let me tell you, it happened to me once,
---------
She left.
The worst part of it all were the questions
Why didn't she give me a reason
Why didn't she waits for me
A puzzle to be decoded,
I carefully studied past memories,
dutifully analyzing every words I said
What was wrong?
It's unfair how she left without a reason
Every night & day
I spiralled downwards into despair
The pain barely registers
My world were gray
Hyperbolic, but it is
Life was pointless
The future was a fog
I cursed myself, hoped something could happened so I didn't have to be alive
"Should I go find him? I'll wait for him, I trust him, he exclusive to me."
Don’t be fooled
On the first 3 months, I thought that too
But she cuts her hearts into 3 & gave it away
That's how she cope with the pain
She heals faster that way
No point to stay like a dog sitting & waiting for its owner to come home behind the closed door
Complexity of human beings
Don't be a burden of feelings
Yours and another’s
There's still a residual damage
Eventually after 4 months I got her back
My heart was so happy that she comes home
I loved her, but she wasn't entirely mine
I could force a marrige & have a family with her
But I realized if I did that, it will be only pressured me
Everything that's not supposed to yours will slipped out of you grip sooner or later, no matter how hard you hold it.
"What about my theory if some black magic witch played a trick on him? we're in Indonesia, you know sometimes it happens illogicaly"
Feelings become stronger than reasoning. Even though I’m ideologically opposed to your theory, if it happened then it happened with God 's permission. It could be a way to save you from him. All for a good cause.
It's his choice
An active action
Accept that
It's just a matter of breaking a habit you're attached to
I'm not forbid you to go there
If you still wan't to fight for him, does he deserve your efffort?
Choose your battle wisely
Don't go alone & promise me
If it's not what you expect,
If you encounteres a road to disappointment
Do not do anything stupid
I don't want to hear you did any lame attempt to escape from this world
Don’t push the thoughts away
Let them in,
Embrace the sadness and heart break
Accept them and let them be there
This is a learning journey, you'll be fine
Time will erase the pain away.
May 17, 2019
May 17, 2019 at 1:08 AM UTC
The orchestral and harmonic vocals of monks echo down spiralled and cast-iron staircases to the dungeons of our carefully crafted castle chambers of submission.
It is all in the warmth of our carotid pulse.
Oh delusional salesman of presumed superior status, it is important to acknowledge those spasmodic and physiological celebratory responses which resound like cross-cultural and cosmological anthems within the questionable corridors of fitness to stand trial.
I can feel your quivering pulse.
However, we must recognise that the required reports are not dissimilar to a beautifully carved chicken which is subject to the paradoxically crude and culinary eloquence and deviance of the gleeful pyromaniac.
The geometry of midnight has clearly outlined her symmetrical shapes, which require seasoning and the skillful administration of being quartered.
Chef, can I ask you: is designation superior to our authentic anthropological status?
Feb 27, 2015
Feb 27, 2015 at 10:48 PM UTC
A wrinkle in time; in that moment you laughed and then the moment passed me by
In that exact moment your laugh caught my eye;
Then I saw shooting stars making landfall on to the surface of Mars
The echoes of your laugh spiralled out of control in to my mind’s eye and lit up my soul
Entire parallel universes in their corresponding dimensions unwrapped in warp time & light speeds
You were setting me up for the inevitable fall
The fall that would come eventually and in the next moment I fell
Head over heels in love you could tell- so much it hurts
An epiphany - you are not the only woman for me in this world followed by this catharsis
But you are the only one for me in the entire multiverse;
But all these revelations took place in a parallel dimension on a mirror earth on a counter ecosphere
Because in this cosmos I never heard your laugh
Never saw shooting stars, create craters on Mars
Just as you left your impression on my heart;
But sadly in this time line you never caught my eye
Hence in this realm all these moments just passively passed me by
Jun 11, 2018
Jun 11, 2018 at 1:04 PM UTC
But alas there was that fateful date
She spiralled down into the hands of fate
Memories emerged from rusty iron doors
Of long forgotten ****** wars
From the horrific deeds both seen and did
She desperately wanted safely hid
So determined to relinquish her soul
Balancing on the edge of a massive Black Hole
Oh, how she wanted to let it all go
Swim in the Styx steady flow
Voices silently scream and thump
"Just jump"
Quickly darting thoughts, makes emotions scurry
A savage combatant, now battle worn and worried
This painful life seemed insignificant
No use in wishing things where different
In that final, fateful hour
Under the weight of anguish cowered
A hand reached out and let her know He'd hold tight and not let go
He also lived in that darkened zone
But together they'd never be alone
They constantly leaned on each other
From the emotional whirl, they where each other's buffer
Friendship deeper than can be imagined
Epic enough to be a poetic legend
Their very essence, bonding soul to soul
Love so pure, like the first winter's snow
But alas there was that fateful date
He spiralled down into the hands of fate
Again alone with memories
Echos of what use to be
It's a spiritual knowing
That a love so glowing
Persist only within a true soul-friend
It's a love so strong, it can not end
For when their next lifetime begins
They will find each other, yet again
©Pauline Russell
Mar 23, 2017
Mar 23, 2017 at 10:46 AM UTC
I’d **** to fall asleep
these ever sinking eyelids
break the black, the darkness parts.
Behind slits of light
reddening eyes weep
sitting moist, unnerving endings:
shards of vision ignite
swirling thoughts, impulsive pulses
of rapid electric sparks.
Sharpened spiralled contemplation:
daggers, knives of stimulation
emulating scythe like sweeps;
cutting spirals in the throat
I cough and splutter, mutter, choke.
What madness and envy lay
in the thrusting of hours passed.
She wouldn't let me fall away,
slump to slumbers thrown, alas
such beauty to demise,
roll down the blinds on rising skies.
Our crimson sheets grow ever-green;
her sunken body, lifeless, bare.
I imagine her final unbroken dream;
she finds this wealth, too hard to share.
Mar 20, 2014
Mar 20, 2014 at 8:04 PM UTC
Do not go out softly
but like a free verse
rain into the Pacific
splattered then spent.
Odious vessel,
dry and salted.
Come watch comets
graze mountains,
with their audacity.
And eclipses! Behind
blue lights and fluorescent skies --
foibles of exigency.
Form was not made
for free spirits
to crash into. Watermarks
dance lively now, like petals
that once spiralled
outside our window.
Apr 15, 2016
Apr 15, 2016 at 12:56 AM UTC
a golden dusk
this blindness
rising a sun
in the sidereal night
my vortex
spiralled path
from nothing
to nothing
a golden dusk
delusion
11.11.14
Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 7:43 PM UTC
I sat staring into space,
My life a mess my mind a state.
Listening to this voice in my head,
I followed its demand, to destruction I was led
‘Don’t eat’ it said ‘it will make you fat’,
therefore I listened and with that,
my body became frail, freezing and tired.
I was left alone to suffer, broken and battered.
‘Don’t add milk, skip your snack,
you don’t need lunch, it will make you fat’.
‘Think about your figure, your stomach your legs,
your unworthy already your better of dead’
As weight I lost, my happiness disappeared.
Feeling numb was an emotion I began to not fear.
Hunger became normal, a comfort a ‘pleasure’
Just throw it away, it will make you look ‘better’.
‘You are disgusting and worthless’, it penetrated my thoughts
A disease, an illness harnessed its grip on my mind.
Abbi had gone, eyes glazed over,
my skin all grey, a corpse I embodied.
It pulled me backwards, isolation was key,
but the voice didn't care as it was harming me.
My mind, my body, soul all blurred into one,
a girl that was once happy had completely gone.
Anxiety spiralled my life out of control,
fooled me in thinking I could still withhold,
the anguish, the terror that my eating disorder craved,
I wanted nothing more than to finally cave.
For too long, I watched others suffer,
screaming and shouting ‘just eat, what’s the matter’.
A simple comment made me change,
‘STOP killing yourself, you can get through the pain’
So body, I think this is terribly overdue,
I’m sorry for putting you in so much pain, abusing you.
I began feeding you with food, a nutrient, a need.
And with that I started putting on weight,
to get healthy, strong, NOT FAT!
Guilt was intense, relapse a strong thought I struggled to prevent.
But Rex is weak and I am strong,
So I keep eating and fighting,
I’m not going to respond.
My dreams are more important that looking a certain way.
I want to live my life without a voice dictating what I do or say.
Living rather than dying, happy rather than sad.
A simple diction of acceptance, I had to finally grab.
Abbi Jordan, 17 years old. In recovery and fighting, 6 months and counting.
Oct 21, 2017
Oct 21, 2017 at 7:12 AM UTC
i loved you, back then
but now the love tastes bitter and scalded
i still think of you, all the time
of the days back when you were Mine
because there was a time,
when i used to run around Fearless,
knowing what we had was a perfect little
Love Story
your Starlight shined to me
and although i still remain Invisible to you
i'll still forever adore you,
although your State of Grace has now fallen
i wanted you to stay forever sixteen,
i wanted you to Never Grow Up
i wanted you to Stay
Stay, Stay
The Way I Loved You was intense,
and so, so easy; Untouchable,
but jealousy has spiralled in and out,
and out of my control
you comforted a girl whose world had been shattered
around her by divorce, depression
and instability
you allowed her to Breathe
now i'm stuck, stuck on The Outside
where it's bitter and cold
Treacherous, even
Everything Has Changed
so Long Live
those times I used to share with you
because they're not my own anymore
and they were truly The Best Day(s)
And when I think Tim McGraw,
yes
of course
I do think of you
Mar 13, 2013
Mar 13, 2013 at 6:21 PM UTC
I wake to see my tear-stained pillow.
It looks at me with pure menace,
Replicating the hatred I have for myself
For hurting you.
Last night is a blur
Of desperation,
Longing,
Conflict.
Why is it that making you happy makes me
Sad?
Last night we
Spoke about
Nothing.
But it spiralled into everything
Without any effort at all.
I am too dysfunctional to continue.
And this morning you'd written a poem
About how you're too sad to write.
Can I have damaged you that much?
That it has prevented you from
Writing?
Oh how you love to write.
It is writing that unites us.
Have I broken you
So much that the link between us is also
Broken?
My tear-stained pillow smothers me with the memories of last night.
It is over now.
I am over.
I am gone.
May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 7:02 AM UTC
My mum she always told me I was akin to
a butterfly
She described me as an electric blue that matched
my eyes
One that no one can miss or go unnoticed yet one
who flew
In a way that meant she was spotted and seen
never observed
Fleeting passive outgrown unlived her soul that soared in
spiralled loops
Never let her go they cried out as a child for she will only ever
run away
Each flinch of her wings each momentary rest she knew time only
chased her
So she flew escaped wandered endless continents with each breath
new life
But never forget the old proverb; all that is gold does not glitter
and essentially
Not all those who wander are lost
Because I am not lost, I just found my wings that were all at once clipped
when young.
© Sia Jane
Sep 17, 2013
Sep 17, 2013 at 10:39 AM UTC