A-Z Challenge: Writing W

This one was written with the NaPoWriMo prompt in mind – where the poem should tell a story and to be written in reverse. I tried to make this one able to flip both ways: let me know which version you prefer.

Wrestling with desire

She sits alone scribbling her woes to a moleskin notebook
The train rattles past trees and houses: a slow blur of green and slate
She wonders if this is all just a bad idea, doubt dragging her through existance
Registering the stark carridge as she adjusts her luggage: so full of potential and sadness
They kiss in the station, her toes straining to greet his welcoming lips.
Walking hand in hand they share a glancing smile
Within the safe confines of the hotel they thrive, sharing an equal hunger
She tears the pineapple from it’s patterned skin, he licks the sticky juice from her lips
The wrestled sheets lie revealingly against heated skin
He curls an arm around her sholder, as she nestles into his angles
She wakes in the morning eyes still half closed, a sly smirk on her lip

……………………….

She wakes in the morning eyes still half closed, a sly smirk on her lips
He curls an arm around her sholder as she nestles into his angles
The wrestled sheets lie revealingly against heated skin
She tears the pineapple from it’s patterned skin, he licks the sticky juice from her lips
Within the safe confines of the hotel they thrive, sharing an equal hunger
Walking hand in hand they share a glancing smile
They kiss in the station, her toes straining to greet his welcoming lips.
Registering the stark carridge as she adjusts her luggage: so full of potential and sadness
She wonders if this is all just a bad idea, doubt dragging her through existance
The train rattles past trees and houses: a slow blur of green and slate
She sits alone scribbling her woes to a moleskin notebook

 

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A-Z Challenge: Volcanic V

Vesuvius

Red hot belly, rumbling in the midday sun
Trembling as she wakes, filling the sky with dread
Her song, the sound of soil screaming
Spitting out white hot globules of pain
Her fevour knows no bounds
No manmade structure can withstand the force
When she blows
Air thick with ashen layers
Rocks warmed by her touch
Everything scorned and scorched
The path of resistance covered with her fury
Torn between simmering for centuries
or bursting forth, with force
a reckoning beyong our control
Yet still in the face of her wrath
We marvel in our awe

A-Z Challenge: Unspoken U

Unused words

It’s the unseen emotion
Those unsaid words
That linger the longest
Hovering upon lips
Held back by uncertainty
Fated to be forever unheard
by hopeful ears

 

A bit of an opposite for my stolen words theme but I feel it still fits for A-Z Challenge: U

Self Alienation

Self Alienation

The slow suction of life itself
Trickles down my brain
Finding its way past hope,
disillusionment,
Self absorption.
Seeping into the world of me
Vintage doors pinned open
Wide to see – another nail
A second plank over the entrance
Of the place I call home
A fortress of lies
Beyond a moat of shadows
That’s where you’ll find me
Locked in dingy dungeons
Of my own design.

SoCS – Ta

From the SoCS prompt  –  Ta

Lindaghill – SoCS

Ta or tata – Thank you or goodbye – Thank you and goodbye not such a positive statement now, or is it?

If we are saying thank you then there must have been something positive right?, there must have at least been something to be thankful for. But if we are grateful why indeed are we saying goodbye.

We go through our lives meeting people and places, putting down roots and getting comfortable yet we rarely want to remove them afterwards, is this because we feel that we are trees and we will die when uprooted? Even the most beautiful plant needs a bit of pruning to keep it fresh and alive.

Upon being born we are thrown into a strange unnatural world, yet we survive. We embrace the new environment, breathe the new air, learn to adapt to the new less fluid atmosphere. Our bodies are amazing machines which work in such a way that they are almost effortless in their pursuit to keep up alive: so much so that we often take them far too much for granted.

In our lives we accept the bumps and the scrapes, expect to be able to rebound from the small ailments and get better, yet what happens when this never happens: what if our bodies stopped healing to an extent, would we take more care?

Spare a thought for those accident prone among us for a moment won’t you. For instance, this morning I am sporting a purple bruise on my upper calf that mysteriously appeared, from an unknown source. When washing my hair this morning I discovered the memory of hitting my head after the recoil of pain from under fingertips. I also remember the scorn for the word of ‘Did that hurt?’ from an onlooker, as is somehow being hit around the skull with a metal bar wouldn’t be painful.

People are such annoying creatures..

……

A-Z Challenge: Secretive S

The damage of silence

Was it her?

I ask in earnest, watching your lips stay firmly closed. I know that you think this method is the easiest, that somehow your silence on the subject will halt the conversation, stop my pursuit of the truth. I think maybe you don’t understand the way in which my brain works, and who could blame you as not even her owner has a full understanding, yet I know this much: refusal to talk won’t make me stop wondering, in fact it makes the hunger worse. Instead I needle you for more information, your mouth set into a stout barrier to your words, I pause briefly before trying to explain why I need this. Offer examples of previous relationships soured by the lack of information, the disintegration of trust, yet you don’t understand, or you do and this still does not sway you to share. My persistence, or stubbornness does eventually pay off – in a way: after my pestering train of conversation you admit to what I already knew to be true, but neither of us are better for the interaction: well maybe not just me
.
The silly thing is that it was a simple question, with a simple answer: there was no hidden agenda that you might have thought, there was no malice or emotion attached: yet the denial or the reluctance to answer was the key to opening another door. Something that would have gone away easy with a grin now still resides in my brain, niggles my mind and forces me to think about it in my times of solitary.

Perhaps, I think you don’t talk because it hurts too much – still: and this is what keeps me awake at night. If you can’t talk about something because it hurts, because it’s still raw then maybe you are not ready to move on at all. Maybe I’m starting to fight a losing battle, again.

I’ve been there before – competing with the shadow of a former love, a rose tinted soul mate, and I can never compare – I know this: nobody can.

It’s that one person, one of those ghosts that people have, those haunting figures that broke their heart, maybe even time and time again. The little deaths that people resign themselves to once they commit to someone heart and soul. You give your everything to them and they take your innocent heart and squeeze out every last ounce of hope and leave you with a tender husk which you learn to closely guard.

There are places and things that are connected to these people. Sometimes it’s a film, a certain phrase, a chain of restaurants, places you both visited, even clothes you wore: all these memories, those little glints of happiness you keep them. They never get spoken about, they are just kept close, little private moments that you can access, unsullied by others, kept only for you.

Whilst this may not be the case for you personally, this is now how it seems, and I wonder if you are really ready for anything as intense as I can be. I wonder if you even want this and all the while I hate the fact that I have been too open…too honest…too free with my words: all which now seem insubstantial, since I had to fight you for yours.

 

Written for A-Z Challenge: S

A-Z Challenge: Remembering R

Regrets

There have been few

Yet those I have

are not mine

To alter