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. 

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

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

You & I

I
would tell you
everything
if I had
secrets
to share

I'd
unload my
troubles
onto
the shelf of
your shoulders
release worries
onto
aching palms

You'd
feel
the weight
of my worries
as heavy
as they are
fall gently
into your keeping

I
trust
you'd hold
them close
as I
would
yours

Another bottle dry

Shot- like a pin prick through my spine
Bleeding like a barrel full of wine
I pour myself out
Pick up a glass
and drink the whole world out
Tomorrow i'll be nothing but a headache
A hungover reminder of a life that once was

Ecstasy

The addict-
inhaled her into his lungs-
replaced nicotine with flesh and blood-
rolled his body around her like a joint.
His body a mixture of two parts paranoia-
and one part anxiety.

Sweats,
shakes,
rejection,
exhaling her from his lungs-
before taking another drag.

Trembling hands-
as she parts from his lips-
her perfume clings to him like cigarettes-
                         Like ecstasy she will push him to the edge

This poem was inspired by the relationship between recovering addicts and their partners, I thought about the idea of quitting an addiction for the person you love, essentially replacing the addiction with the person and becoming addicted to them. in this poem the addict replacing drugs and alcohol with his girlfriend. i questioned what would happen when the relationship breaks down, would the person be able to cope with another dose of withdrawal? 

Days Mourning Gown

That far left side, the abandoned road, empty it lies, as passers-by pull in from time to time.  The land beside it filled with new born, a gift, as death leaves the land to mourn the harsh months of past, and blesses the soil with fragile youth not yet tainted by the months to come. A casket heart on a silver chain encloses a photograph, the travelers leave their mark on it, with tire marks and dirt. A memory to keep with the heart; worn into the road. The night begins to dress itself in days mourning gown as it contemplates the day gone by and ponders what will come of the next year.

A short story in which I was asked to include a randomly chosen object, setting, season and time of day without specifically naming them. I was given the setting: hard-shoulder of the motorway, time of day: evening, object: locket and season: spring. I hope I was able to actively conveyed these themes through this short prose without leaving my own writing style behind.

Just a crumpled piece of card

I wasn’t expecting to be used

I wasn’t expecting to be abused

To be a family portrait pinned to a cork board

Just a small yellow pin pressed against my spine

Each pixle a memory, punctured by pins

My body the remains of a crumpled piece of card

No I wasn’t expecting to be used

To be a balloon filled with helium falling from the sky

The promise of freedom, tied down by a string

Death just a needle prick away

I wasn’t expecting to be abused

To be a Barbie doll wrapped in sweet wrapper dresses

Lips painted bubble gum pink

Straw hair bleached to perfection

Being pulled by whichever child wants to take me off the shelf

I wasn’t expecting to be abused

That virgin apple, you just had to take a bite

So fresh It melts on your lips

And slides down your throat

I was asking for it they said

But I wasn’t expecting it to be you

That boy with the butterscotch lips who didn’t hear the word no

I wasn’t expecting it to be you

Spoken word poem inspired by the work of Jeanne Verlee, I am hoping to set up a youtube channel soon so that I can post audio clips of the spoken word series read aloud, as on paper they do not convey the emotion I targeted. The brief was to write a poem focusing around an issue, I chose rape. There is a poem by Neil Hilborn and Renee Schminkey entitled One Colour, which deals with the issue of rape, they describe how society preaches that there is one kind of rape, one type of girl walking down that one part of town who gets targeted, not the truth that it is far more complex than that, I really advise you take a look at the links I have posted, they are amazing poets and such inspirational poems.

My poem, in my opinion is a bit too repetitive but I wanted to try and work on something longer than my usual posts, which are often only two or three stanzas long. 

Lets trade our swords for roses and surrender into each others arms, sending lust-filled battle cries into the night.

A quick poetic thought based around the idea of lovers being on opposing teams. I've been hooked on the BBC series The White Queen recently (more specifically the relationship between Anne Neville and Richard iii). The Tudor period is one that has always fascinated me and the divide between the Lancastrian side and York side is such a strong divide that if two people on opposing sides they would have to put their feelings aside.

Floral Decay

A room full of floral decay
That bittersweet smell of mixed perfumes
Lingers, and the waft of stale summer air
Waltzes down the aisle
That awkward time stuck between
A blistering summers day
And the ice frosted night
A note to congratulate the bride
And the groom
That couple that wont even last the night
Divorces are expensive I think
As the pen hits the paper

As part of a task I was given a random: object, setting and time of day. I got: a wedding in a church, a letter and the afternoon. I really don't know how this managed to take such a depressing (yet comical) turn as I was planning on something rather romantic.

Betrothed To My Burden

If you should find yourself
Unbeknowingly betrothed to my burden
Smite it down
Tear at its dreams, its hopes and its passions.
Do it so, with lack of lust
No compassion nor craving for its eternity
No infinite love, or never ending cycle

Work In Progress Poem

I covet

I covet
To pour into your arms
To feel the heat of your breath trembling across my skin
To edure the sound of your voice with its shallow hushed tones
Echoing through my skull

I covet
To entwine my soul within yours
And feel the sharp rise and fall of your chest with mine
To feel our clumsy fingers stumbling over untouched skin
With a perpetual yearning

I covet
To stumble over long goodbyes
And feel your arms release me for the last time
To scream your name and cry your tears
With my recalcitrant heart

I covet 
To never release your hand
To find you when your heart is lost 
And endear your every breath 

I covet

A poem inspired partly by a beautiful song by Christina Perry called The Lonely, and partly by the passionate relationship shared between Cam and Lilith in the Fallen series by Lauren Kate. I also took inspiration from the film The Deep Blue Sea. I wanted to expand on the feeling of longing, to love someone with such strong intensity and to experience the feeling of true love.