Tag Archives: poetry

Exorcism

Exorcism

​It has taken until now to begin;
for my throat to form the sounds,
my mouth to mimic
the shifting shapes of sorrow
and release them into the air.
 

I am an infant, grappling
with the birth of language;
each word connecting
and disconnecting me
to and from myself.
 

Love letters crawl from the
tar pit. Black, sticky,
coated with grief, they slip
beneath triangles that
no longer tessellate.
 

As the banshee leaves
all that remains in the
blonde light of morning
is a girl, so much stronger
than me before you.

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Filed under Free Verse, Poetry, Uncategorized

Alpha Betty

U
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Strange, to find oneself
in someone else’s poem,
but if you must write me
between the lines of your
unravelling thoughts
 

I should like to sit
in one of the consonants –
a soft-centred C;
my spine moulding
to the open swirl
 

or lingering
in the upturned curl
of a gentle L;
legs dangling like a child’s
on an over-stuffed sofa.
 

I should not like
to be propped against an I,
(either upper or lowercase) –
such a solitary letter,
so rigid and unforgiving
 

and to be penned within a U
would be unthinkable;
its tall, unscaleable walls
casting shadows,
rendering me
unbearably
small.
 
 

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Equus Ferus

Horse 1
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

He arrives mid-morning,
pawing the hot dust,
blunt thrust of snorting muscle
penetrating the corral.
 

His scent punches the air;
damp and pungent,
the rumbling aftershock
shoulder-charging my nostrils.
 

He parades, slowly,
rippled flanks
drip-feeding lusty morsels
as I resist the pull to approach.
 

The rope is coiled
and dry in my hands;
a flaccid snake that dare not
harness his sculpted throat.
 

I undress, wait,
quivering in the dirt,
while unshod hooves
imprint concentric whispers.
 

He comes to me, quietly,
in hard, shallow breaths,
allows me to grasp his withers,
clamber onto his unsaddled back.
 

I lower my quiet ache
to his dark neck,
animal heat flushing,
and it is in this brief fracture,
 

his body clasped to my breast,
his unspoken verse
pressed to my temples,
that we commune.
 
 

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Helios and other bedfellows

bed3
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

We wake to sunshine;
 

not the bland lemony light
that fingers blonde venetians,
 

but a fizzing mirrorball,
blistering
between linens,
 

livid,
and white to the touch.
 

Later,
 

limbs smouldering
in the ruck of scorched sheets,
 

fingertips
trace vellum palms,
 

sifting
 

for the tender balm
of borrowed verse.
 
 

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Brecon

Brecon 6
 

For Ron & Louise and Owen & Katherine
 
 

Darkness delivers me
to the belly of the beacons;
a caffled bundle
of newness and nerves
kinked and crunched
between gravel and sole.
 

Slowly, bathed in the balm
of pine and candles,
skeins untangle, tensions unfurl,
as I sit, silk-washed in words
that tumble over me
like warm, Welsh rain.
 

Dawn unties the ribbons
of a new day,
presents me with the gift
of light and mountains
and the lilting mellow verse
of friendships forged
over fire and wine.
 
 

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Kinesthesia


 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 

sink
through skin
  

blistering scrape
of wintered limbs
across sky

 

tight twist
of wet tongues
curling
between fingers

 

tide-clattered barnacles
popping
against craggy bones

 

crawl in-
side
quilting
uterine serene
 

taste it
from the rubbery floor
 

smell it hear it feel it fuck it
 

push
metal barbs
back
through the membrane
 

scrawl
on unstaunched walls
 

lilting crimson script
still glistening
smeared
across the beam

 
 

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Gratitude


 

We arrived in our thousands,
laden; waterproofed and prepared
for the squelching, umber trudge.
 

We stalked, staked claim to the land
and built our temporary shelters;
effective but impossible to find
 

in the torch-lit, twilight damp. Loosened
by like-minded company, eventide found us
beneath the endless Suffolk skyscape,
 

throwing shapes as though invisible;
a cagoule-cassocked choir offering
hedonistic hymns in exchange
 

for a brief respite from the rain.
As we left, small pieces of us clung
to the bosky oasis; twirling bootprints
 

in the clotted clay, descant notes
perched as dew on forest leaves
and sighs that skittered
 

on the illuminated lake. Yet,
as the light slipped towards
the end of the earth, I realised
 

that each of us was leaving
with so much more than we
had packed in our rucksacks.
 
 

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Illuminare


 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

despite our thirst for kindling
we dwell mostly in the dark,
squatting in the ashen embers
of yesterday’s blaze,
aching
for the spark
 

done with desperate days
running clamorous corridors,
flicking switches,
rocker clicks
arcing
uncontrollable licks
 

preferring now the balm
of a quiet twilight,
waiting for Eos
to truckle voile,
foiling
unfathomable vacuum
 

or simply sitting with silence,
awaiting the hushed glow
of a naked wick
 
 

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The Lady of Shallot


 

A curse to see the world in metaphor?
Ripe shoots that claw their way from molten womb,
unfurling from the crumbled, peaty gloom
 

and ushering bi-lingual semaphore.
Hard facts harangue A. fistulosum’s tang,
pale membranes peel, reveal a juicy core.
 

As Allium lays waste to mordant Rheum
our verse soars from the vaults; sweet metaphor.
 
 
 

~ My apologies to Messrs Tennyson, Waterhouse and Prater. Tennyson and Waterhouse for nicking the title of their poem/painting (albeit mis-spelt) and Prater for bastardising his Octain – I’m calling it a Dectain on account of each line having ten syllables instead of eight.

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Tribe

~This piece is dedicated to you, for if you’re reading it you’re part of the tribe.
 
 

Words wasted,
lip-locked,
pasted,
untasted,
invisibly labelled
risibly disabled.
Confined,
late night study time,
creep to bed,
ideas shed.
 

Scooped up by the online tribe, electronic vibe coursing the veins, mainlining trains; thoughts full throttle from the full frontal lobe, traversing the globe. Busy stations, new locations, shared vocations, eloquence, elation. Enveloped by talent, consumed, exhumed, lifted by the gifted and allowed to bloom. Sisters, brothers, birthed in verse, kindred lovers blessed with the curse. Pilgrims prepared to take truth to the brink, bound not by blood but by ink.
 

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