Life

White light burns, creating. Imminently destroying

6 word poem on creation.inspired by this web page http://io9.com/lets-write-some-six-word-science-fiction-1678956454

Molded

I see women
once bulbus
with rolls of
unmolded clay
whittled down
by the pressure of thumb
or knife
revealing wire frames
used for movement
and stability.

Their padded walls
of fat
and flesh
shrinking around them,
clinging to these steel frames
that weaken with each tightened inch.

Hip bones
pierce through skin
like shark fins
angling themselves outwards,
Like sails
cutting through air.
they weaken,
crumbling under the wind.

The sails begin to tear.
canvas pulled too tightly over bone
it splits
that wretched sound of
stitches becoming undone.
as they weaken at the seams.

This poem was very much inspired by the works of Sylvia Plath. I took the opportunity to focus on a simple issue such as losing weight and look at it in detail. I imagined the human form as a claymation figure, a wire stick figure used to create stability and movement, padded with clay to form a character. I imagined the clay slowly being worn away and over time the original stick figure becomes visible. 

Stars

What if-
like pin pricks through cloth,

stars act

as windows on walls,
passing visions

of heaven, 

through black

to earth.

A brief poetic thought about the roles of stars in the solar system. Inspired partly by Sylvia Plath's observational style of poetry and partially by the Les Mis song Stars as performed in the 2012 film rendition. 

Abolition

He was a shadow
and his body moved
across the cobbles
As swift as the night
at the peak of summer

Isolated
in a place where night and day
are defined only by the glimmer of light
that pulls itself through the smog quilted sky

And where strangers pass by
judging each other on the quality of their palms
"Chapped" and "almost white"
but not quite enough

to please these blowzy men
donning flatcaps and unironed shirts
who scoff, at the surface
of an issue
they cannot begin to comprehend

Creating hierachies
of race
to replace the one of class
they fight so poignantly
to abolish

He speaks.
when he can
with a voice balmy as air
though laden with burden
his freedom tainted by history
not yet made historic

A short poem inspired by the channel 4 series The Mill, specifically the character Peter Gardener. The show is set in a Victorian mill, we see the male workers fighting for class equality, forming unions to help them earn a fairer wage, and yet amongst this attempt to create equality, there is an undertone of racism when a man joins the village from a slave plantation, and is immediately ostracised.
In the poem I refer to Peter as a "Shadow", his placement in the village is seen to be temporary and we often see him sat alone, pushed into the darkness by the other workers. Men who work just as hard as Peter turn their backs on him, simply due to the colour of his skin. The show helps to highlight the issues of racism, sexism and class prejudices that were alive at the time. 
In the 3rd stanza I talk about the way people judged each other "on the palms of their hands", I use the adjectives "chapped" and "almost white" to describe Peters hands, "chapped" reflecting the damage caused by hard work. I used the phrase "almost white" as a direct reference to a quote from the show (The Mill) when a naive character sees Peters hands and states "they aren't black on the inside".
I hope I have been able to touch upon the issues highlighted in the show.

The moon cried out
Through the rain today
Glowing softly through her tears
She confessed her sins
And deepest fears

Gatsby's Fall From Grace

A light of hope burned within Gatsby's heart, a flickering green light that ignited his extravagant and love fueled dreams. It is true that this very green light hovered over his blurred horizon, danced along a hazy border between sky high fantasies and deep sea deaths. That light soon became a beacon for his hopes, but its bright light cast an envious shadow over Gatsby's soul, over the years slowly manipulating his hopeful smile into an expression of desperate longing.

That night their bodies danced with ultimate pari passu, moving as one amongst the crowds of people who's bodies rustled in jeweled sweet wrapper habiliments. The glitz of the party faded slowly faded into the distance and dissipated into the soft brown eyes of Daisy Buchanan. Her sweet honey suckle hair swam through his mind like finger waves, her finger tips dripped in gold pawing gently at his back, her eyes begging him for reassurance.

Two short experimental pieces exploring the characters and themes associated with F. Scott Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby. 

Origami Swans

Eyes wander over grazed, stained arms
skin thin as canvas
stretching over bone
framing a piece of art so frail
its pigment begins to fade,
paint cracks feather over
every detail
as blurring narratives
fade into
sunlit backdrops

Cut fingers
and pin pricked minds
trace over
origami thought
wrapping lace bandages
over nics
and accidental incisions
sewing stories onto
paper
in bespattered paint

The room swarmed with paper swans
as the floor turned to red