AdmissionI want to
I was never
much of a
when it comes
fight or flight
That humour is
where kindness is
to be sucked dry.
But I can tell you also
when birds make nests
I let them be
I'll catch your smile when it falls
so you'll never lose it
when harsh words and city streets
get too much for me
I hold my ears
sing 'la, la, la,'
and I'll lose no sleep
over feeling free
or choosing latter
in the word
Coffee StainsDress shoes click on the streets laid slick with cinnamon and wasted airCoffee Stains2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
It's sugar on your lipstick, darling; a dangerous affair.
You chose coffee
Like you chose romance
Just for the idea of romance; cream and smoked wood swirling around in your cup,
And steam curling up into the atmosphere like the locks in his hair.
Tantalisingly dark and hauntingly aromatic
You craved it
You mocked the raven that eyed you from its branch out in the blustering courtyard and
You didn't even like the taste.
The silver curve of the teaspoon showed your warped reflection like a deathly omen
It showed the line of your neck and each glittering pearl
The hanging clock on the wall, for all its carved hearts and varnished oak
Couldn't quite drown out the tolling
Pendulum swinging by your ear as you ran your hand along the creases in the leather seat
The sweet, too-strong perfume mingling with the scent of the
Dark black coffee
Much as the gold around his wrist had
ExpirationWith you I always feel like I’mExpiration3 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
to break in the wrong size of shoes.
Sometimes I sit and stew
over how you’re seventeen and
you think I’m a princess
the trapped-in-a-tower kind
and how you wear suits and talk about politics
and think you know the world.
My throat interrupts with an affronted gurgling sound
sometimes when I think about you,
you deal out advice where it just isn’t called for
you quote science-fiction to justify war
and you’re seventeen years old and you think I’m a princess
and you just have no blooming idea.
Darling, one of these days I will tell you my mind
But until then we’ll never fit
I’m afraid –
that even after that day
you’ll still be trimmed hedges and
Simple ThingI’d like to be an off-beatSimple Thing7 months ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
syncopated little thing;
note and stem floating on the melody, just sitting in
appoggiatura, grace-note, special thing.
I’d like to be a sailor
swinging on the ocean wind
coarse old rope between my hands and salt-spray where my toes begin
nimble little sailor, clever thing.
I’d like to be a bed-sheet
gentle thing to warm your skin
thing that you hug tighter when the morning starts to filter in
falling through your creases, lucky thing.
we used to make butterfly handsYou told me that when I was older I would understandwe used to make butterfly hands2 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
and I looked up and saw the sky in paper planes and periwinkle blue.
I reached out and drew a line for you;
traced it all over the globe and back to your wise heart
so that when I was older, my head full of understanding,
I’d be able to navigate back to my place there
and touchdown, settle down with you.
You said that our worlds were too distant,
you with your job and bills to pay and me with my honey-sweet dreams.
I nodded and pulled back my flyaway hair
thinking that if we’re alive together, against all the odds and centuries alive together,
that’s close enough for me.
I kissed you and you told me I was great. Carousel great. Sandy-toes great. Smiles on a Saturday, belly-laughs great.
You snapped the string and flew away.
I’m older and I do understand
that dotted lines get tangled or just fall away completely and
you were right when you said that things aren't quite as pretty
as they are in my party-h
WideYou criticised the way I writeWide3 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
I wondered if you were, for once,
saying something right.
But I deserve
to take up
my words deserve
to fill a page
I hope they cover
In another tongue, in a far-off townSometimes I dream that we met in a placeIn another tongue, in a far-off town5 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
where sadness was a foreign language
where you couldn’t understand the words I whispered in your ear.
Where I couldn’t taste it like molasses on your tongue or read it in your smudging script,
see it painted on your face or feel it, warm between your thighs.
Sometimes I dream that I met you in some other fashion, stumbling over unfamiliar lines
but not here. Not here.
BloomIt's normal, you know.Bloom2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Bruises flower under skin like lilies in a garden
Tears find their place just like water in the soil
They seep into the black
And hurt grows so green and natural.
Pearl skin is supposed to go purple
It's as right as the rain.
So don't worry, don't fret
I'm art, you know, cross-stitching on the wall
An ivory piano key
Just as I should be
Because battered things are beautiful.
Feathers torn from silk pillows
And stick figures on balance beams
Aren't as loved, nor as adored,
Nor as beautiful as me.
LimitlessThey mocked him becauseLimitless2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
He laughed between each stanza
Between each stroke of a butterfly's wing
And they didn't get the joke.
They mocked him because
He couldn't read Latin
But the wisdom of eons past still danced in his eyes, shining deep blue while sunset bathed the world in dark fire.
Because sadness never bent his back or creased his face
Because they didn't know how to smile for their own sake
While for him, it came as naturally as an albatross spins on the ocean breeze.
And at night
Those gales would lift him away
Whipping light past his eyes, catching threads of matter and antimatter and weaving him a ladder to climb
Effortlessly; a maestro of the soul's music
An aviator, writing freedom in the sky on his soul's exultant flight.
InfinityI’m afraid that you’ll love me like the wind loves daisies,Infinity2 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
blowing them over the edge of their precipice overlooking the sea.
I’m afraid you’ll meet me sadly at the bottom and lap the water like a question against my crumpled stem
when the strength of your love has left me numb.
You ask me what I’m afraid of, and I’m afraid that you’re a nebula spanning the vast darkness of space
while I’m just a lonely speck of sand;
too small not to get swept up in your currents and dragged out into the rolling ocean
and lose myself forever beneath your stars.
paint until there's only positive spaceI am the street artist; rough clothes and thin visagepaint until there's only positive space4 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
you are the city, vivacious and loud.
Night after night, I find myself in dark places
spraying colours on your faces just to talk to you.
Have you ever tagged a train?
The art I envy is like you –
making waves at night to leave the landscape brighter in the day.
You are the cause I just want to connect with:
fresh, something different, something new.
GossamerPoetry has gossamer wingsGossamer2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
And she flies and she flies and she flies.
She spins her nest out of fragments and whims
And parades it through midsummer skies.
And those who would catch her come stealth'ly
Those who'd hold her would hold their own eyes
And those who would know her would gaze at the clouds
Where she flies and she flies and she flies.
Snow WhiteHis fingers traced over the veins that lay beneath the surface of her translucent skin. They were just visible, like flower stems crushed by the morning snow, or a few rude brush marks left by a painter in a moment of contempt for the Academy. He, at that moment, felt no such fire burning in his blood just a sick, panicked feeling that came in ebbs like the evening tide. Her satin ruffled as he moved his hands from her neck to her face, and then to her slim shoulders. She was fragile, but not as fragile as this.Snow White2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
He gave her a playful shove, managed a crooked smile and whispered in a tone that lay somewhere between choked hope and frightened disbelief, "Snow. Hey, Snow, wake up."
He leaned over her, watching with almost vicious concentration. No response. She was perfectly still, like an image from a painting or poem by those damn Romantics; their full colours and pretty words hiding the darkness that was always brimming just underneath. Lovers weren't meant to kill and they cert
lucidityInside my messy mind, you’re clear.lucidity3 months ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Love is an open-ended question, maybe.I don't want to fall in love but I do want to love you:Love is an open-ended question, maybe.1 year ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Love you like Fridays and three birthday cheers
Love you like wild schemes and spit on our fingers
I don't want a romance, I just want you near.
I want to love you like sailboats and daring adventures
Your friends and my friends and long, late night calls
I want to wander for six months and have my heart broken
Want you to show me it's never quite broken at all.
I want to love you like Plato and pizzas and parties
Sparklers when we're thirty, barefoot and still free
I want to love you on the sofa when you're dancing and dizzy
New books and bad movies, and you next to me.
Love is for all those who beg to be broken
It's a story to scare us, make us nod and behave.
When I'm lost in the night without purpose or car keys
I want to land on your doorstep; claim your warmth until day.
I want to love you like jumpers and chalk on the pavement
Poking fun at whatever, baking cakes the wrong way.
I've never seen something to want in sad love
GaiaI wonder if I’ll miss your skies. When we first started out, you promised I would see the Amazon,Gaia1 month ago in Free Verse More Like This
that I’d look up and marvel at your canopy and wild sun.
You said that you were mine.
And oh, how people raved about you –
they said that you were an oyster; a stage
and I went on believing that you were a bright cacophony of wood and actors
or some soft seafood delicacy.
I gulped you down like fish and lies
and with you in my throat, I choked.
I won’t tell you you’re cruel when I let you go.
Instead I will tell you the truth:
that you are Alps in France and wide, wide oceans,
high heel shoes and splendid walls,
you are divorce attorneys and air-force planes
and banks gleaming in the stark white sky as they lord over pigeon cities.
You are sometimes hugs from the people I love
and at other times mushroom clouds.
You are the rhythm thrumming beneath the skins of drums
and a dentist drilling a child’s teeth;
the roar of city buses that still scare m
FlashesSometimes when I touch something warmFlashes2 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
it’s your soft skin that I feel in the shower again.
I draw my hand away like it’s been scalded and flit back
to the present. Safe. The moment’s gone.
The past is a vision of bubbly and rings, ski-trips and promises that sounded so full –
the future is a whirlwind of parties and high spirits,
calendar dates, change and someone else’s sweet grin.
But now, darling. Now is a lonely thing.
Sparse KindlingFinding your love is like gathering frozen branches.Sparse Kindling3 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
My hands ache, my teeth chatter.
But I won’t last the winter without something for the flames.
HotlineThe first time I dialled your number I felt a skipping in my chestHotline5 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
the skip that comes with talking to strangers
the skip that tells me that I’m strapped into the rollercoaster, ready or not for the ride.
You answered, and your voice was like a cave,
deep and warmish and mossy
with echoes trapped inside the dark spaces
like a cave to keep me safe from the storm.
I spoke to you and my own voice was like cobblestones,
cracked and scattered
strewn out across a much-trodden road and kicked into the gutter,
like cobblestones with missing bits, crumbling from the elements.
You told me that things would get better from here on out,
that I’d made the first step and
that you would talk to me for as long as it took to get me from one place to another one
or longer, even.
You spoke to me about large things
responsibility and Ferris wheels and distant nebulas
you spoke to me about small things
garden mice and sub-atomic particles and how many spoonfuls of sugar you take with your tea.
Death of a Noodle (Everybody Tells Me What to Do)I click through web pages on my computer. I’m having a little Internet Time. I spot something that catches my interest. I smile. I click it. The title reads How to Be a Writer. Beneath it there’s a list of instructions. How fascinating. I read on.Death of a Noodle (Everybody Tells Me What to Do)5 months ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
1. Go to the beach
2. Lick your friend’s eyelashes
3. Make pee-pee in a pot plant
I scowl and close the tab. Surely these things won’t make me a writer? Sighing, I begin a search for something more practical. I type away.
A link appears before me. It’s a little thing sitting on the left side of the page. I hold my cursor near it indecisively. How to Be a Poet. I click.
1. Drench yourself in anxiety
2. Seriously, drench yourself
3. You’ve gotta do some sports-drink-advertisement worthy drenching right here
4. Also bathe yourself in woe
I scroll through the list, getting more and more desperate. Where is the part about writing actual poetry? My heart is racing. I feel the
Chance MeetingsWe didn’t meet in a wild rain. We met in a corridorChance Meetings2 weeks ago in Free Verse More Like This
with bandaids on our arms from the blood tests
but you made me feel torrential,
like beyond all of this or inside all of this
we’re still young and burning and free.
We don’t feel sad anymore.
Sadness is just the tip of the iceberg, a thin mist that covers our everything.
All moments are sad but so many thoughts and feelings swirl within that sadness,
a complexity of love and of laughter and happiness, even.
Time might be short but our hearts are expansive.
I am a vast ocean. With a tip of your head you’re my travel plan;
holding tickets to a future that I didn’t think I’d find here
you’re the nightlife in London and breakfast in France.
We didn’t meet under starlight but like a stranger on the street corner
I knew that I would find you
wrapped up in me when it’s too cold to sleep
and our chances too bleak to go home.
We didn’t meet in a nightclub but it’s loud,
wednesday's childit is the third of octoberwednesday's child2 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
and i am building a castle for us
out of feathers, bird bones,
ocean waves and library book pages.
anything to keep our feet from
touching the ground.
you are sin, he whispers
and his fingers trail cold fire
down my side, scorching flesh
and freezing bone;
brittle pieces of me shatter
as they hit the stained linoleum floor.
don't wake me from this nightmare.
i whisper a nursery rhyme
as i walk down our
kamikaze leaves fall, trailing
fire as they throw themselves from
the branches, down, down,
to cold pavement below.
your words echo in my mind
a constant reminder
that i am sin
time-spared drawers of dreamsi. someday the sight-starvedtime-spared drawers of dreams1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
will find more than just the moon -
that i promise you.
we've seen all of what happiness
will never be and
like liquid stars in the milky way,
smiles will seep down
into the oceans of your laughter.
never mind what they said
about shady equilibrium;
it's only man's insecurity.
truth is, there is no
no rule, no eyes
watching over you;
just the forgotten remains of the
god that falls on us
every time it rains.
ii. someday, my dear,
those cranes won't just be
an exhibition of folded paper -
and those tears you cry now?
[which you hate so much?]
will leak into my arterial walls
and tell me they only tell stories of ecstasy;
we just have yet to realize.
love, it won't be long
till autumn will not be as forgotten
and between these
multiple shades of grey, will rest
the emptiness within yo[us]
and the broken smiles
of a shattered yesterday.
iii. grieve not, sweet traveler -
our draining journey has just begun.
and though you have been without comfort for s