Unspoken Anger

It sits,
In the back of my brain
Awaiting it’s freedom
Time clear of refrain

Advertisements

I’m Fine Thanks

I’m not OK
Not within the weeping of trees,
Or inside wailing caverns,
Nor whilst walking home,
alone,
on a Saturday night
after the fight we had under the opaque moon.
 
I’m not OK in the vast open spaces,
of myself.
When I come to the end of my time
as a host, as a lover,
as a child,
as a friend.

I’m not OK
in my forced role of parent, or therapist.
Nor am I a sturdy shoulder,
a prop, a raft: left to hold others afloat.
 
After the day is through and the walls become silent
Hours left to my own devices,
my own thoughts, feelings even
Here – I’m not OK.
 
You cannot see,
yet in me lies a detonator
waiting for sanity to finally give in.
Silently mocking – willing me to explode
so that every bit of me is opened up to scrutiny,
and judgement.
Disappointment,
for both you and me.
 
And only then,
when my body is wiped from the walls,
and scarlet pools around their shoes
will they claim –
 
She seemed OK
She was always OK

My Muse

 

It’s as if you make my fingers type somehow
Lure thoughts from my lips, staining the paper
– with inspiration
There are days when you tire me
Incessantly driving my mind forward
Creating strings of words ,that take form
Just a line or two at first
Then suddenly a whole cacophony
Of symphonies: the muse in triumph
And unbeknownst to most, you sit
Perched firmly in my chest
Your voice at the forefront of my mind

Go on, you say
Write it – write it all out
Write it for me

That First Hurdle

To begin again is always the hardest thing.

Facing that blank page is daunting; it screams out in its purity, gives rise to palpitations and forces us to consider our options for the first time in a long time. It’s easier to carry on the story, pick up where you left off last time. The knowledge that you can recap and maybe gain an idea that you were heading towards, so that you can carry on with this in mind. It’s easier and comforting, when you have your base characters and plot worked out you can somehow spring from this much smoother than beginning afresh. Whether this is because the carrying on from old stock just means you are merely filling or that it just makes you more secure: I’m unsure. Perhaps it’s the opposite and it’s the new beginning that is just too daunting. There is too much potential to fail, too much that could go wrong, and so, under the pressure of all ‘the could be’, we simply freeze.

IT’s just that initial burst, that first nudge, the one little but huge step to get us across the starting line, once this happens then we can easily adapt to the new scenario – yet sometimes it seems too hard to start.

 

*nudges

My Nerdboy

It was the flick of your wrist as we sat,
opposite – leaning towards one another,
streamlined pine nestled between.
A barrier to some – but not us.
It was the slight halt of your step,
your elbow nudging the air:
where my arm was too slow,
to slip, into the crevice of your coat.
It was the look in your eyes,
slowly rolling up (like a pup)
on moving stairs and ramps.
And oh –
how I craved your caress.
It was the downward turn of your lips,
as I uttered my goodbyes.
That lingering hug, tinged with sadness.
Those mumbled words, I never heard.
It was the perplexed face,
harbouring worries of my welfare
whilst hurrying through stations and streets;
the helping hand when I stumbled.
It was the pillowed arm or chest,
that warmed my cheek at night
The blanket of you – surrounding.
Protection from the morning chill

It was the loss of these actions
and more, that instant regret
after proclaiming you were needy.
It was my loss – My need for you.

 

Costa is King

Quite possibly the largest number of singletons or loners found within one group at any one time. This quaint little coffee shop, a hive of activity for writers and readers alike. They swarm from trains and buses, tumble in from the street to find themselves a lone corner or quiet table from which to write their lives on the pages. Words conjoining to find meaning within inked lines, a master watching the beauty, as they swirl into being, taking form in their growth. Gnashing and gnarling, devouring everything in proximity before their inevitable death; then a refill of espresso to help the writer’s block.

coffee-983955_1920.jpg

Image: Pixabay

Life in Stasis

Breathe in

Breathe out

Repeat

Wake up, wash, dress
Put on somebody else’s face
smile
don’t forget this
It’s important to show
you’re OK

Breathe in

Breathe out

Repeat

Work
Scrape the dirt from your nails
Stand up straight
smile
don’t forget this
is your necessity

Breathe out

Breathe in

Repeat

Walk, run
Catch a bus, the tube
try not to touch
or smile
don’t forget this
isn’t a game
It’s life

Breathe out

Try not to breathe in

Repeat

Eat,
Clean the dishes
take a bath, relax
smile
don’t forget this
is your time
then sleep


Repeat