4am and I’m filled with it
the taste in my mouth
like I’m stuffed with coins
each finger filled with it
4am and it’s here in the room
with me I’ve been swallowed
by cancer I’m a nodule
floating in a sea of cancer
I breathe it in I float in it
6am and it’s getting light
time to pack it away
time to squash it down
into my lungs my bones
time to swallow it down
it’s in me don’t let me scream
I started blogging at fantasticmetastaticme.wordpress.com. I write poems at fmmewritespoems.wordpress.com. You can follow either, or both – or neither, obviously! – depending on your interest.
Love should be made afresh each day, like tea.
Does that sound too mundane? Consider now
the cup I bring up every morning, free
from thoughts about repayment, and then how
you put a cup beside me when I’m at
my desk and working hard, because you see
that I might need it. Let’s extend it out:
our teapot holds enough for the whole family,
and when our friends drop by we offer tea
to say “we love you, and we’re glad you’re here”.
We offer tea as comfort, sympathy,
as a small warmth, protection against fear.
Love’s measured not in words, but in our deeds –
I say “I love you” when I make you tea.
Ingrid over at Experiments in fiction has asked us to write a sonnet for St Valentine’s Day. Wierdly, she has given us the theme of “love”.
Light’s spilling from the window,
warm as gingerbread,
sticky as love.
Light’s spilling from the window
and I pause here for a moment,
between the dark blue night and
the light spilling from the window,
warm as gingerbread.
In December, we triolet. Another triolet, unrhymed, unrhythmed, stretched and bent, but still recognisable.
I didn't break down in Ikea
even though you're leaving,
even though you turned to me
clutching a pillow,
the way a fox might hold a bird,
too big to swallow. No.
I smiled at you.
Who even knows what liminal means?
Reading between the lines, I know
that when you use that word,
you’re trying to impress me, to just brush
me with your intellectual prowess
leaving me hanging halfway
between desire and disdain –
I know you want to almost
touch me, almost arouse me,
leave me wanting.
This is for Sammi’s weekend writing prompt – 57 words this time, inspired by the word “liminal”. When I hear the word liminal, I reach for my revolver.
Not really. I just don’t think I’ve ever used it in a sentence or a piece of writing before, and I’m not entirely sure I know what it means…
There are no havens here
only the angry wind
hurling itself at the cliff
and the ocean
a white curdling
each rock a blade
each bay guarded
by stone teeth
For Sammi’s weekend prompt. I haven’t done one of these for ages…
With its high walls and heavy gates
that open with the gleam of gold
the flash of plastic
we have always lived here
secure in our large vocabularies
and convoluted grammar
and our knowledge of which fork to use.
We have always lived here
and wondered why others choose
to live in crowded tenements
and walk on muddy cart-tracks
to smoke on street corners
take pills and shit
to manufacture moods
when here, in this high tower,
the views are wonderful
and the breeze brings scents
of moonlight blossoms
come up come up
then shut the door
For Christine’s daily writing prompt at Go Dog Go Cafe – and for the dVerse open link night.
Christine prompts us to write a poem inspired by the title of a book.
Never seen such glassy eyes
I mean blank empty
because this pink plastic skull
teeny tiny waist
and this curved torso
is a cavern
legs can be bent
figure is fully posable
hands curve to hold
these eyelashes are fully nylon
this hair is fully stylable
these feet are trapped
although the moon is full, the stars are out
although the stars are out, there’s frost tonight
although there’s frost tonight, the fire is warm
although the fire is warm, the room is cold
although the room is cold, I’m not alone
although I’m not alone, I’m scared right now
although I’m scared right now, my hands are quiet
although my hands are quiet, my mind is spinning
although my mind is spinning, I know what to say
although I know what to say, I’m keeping still
although I’m keeping still, I want to run
although I want to run, the door is locked
although the door is locked, I have a key
although I have a key, the night is dark
althought the night is dark, the moon is full
although ms quickly asked for a list poem, i’m kind of ignoring her…