Tomorrow #DVersePoetics

Tomorrow has taken to pressing up against the windows,

fingers splayed on the glazing,

eyes big like old iron lamps

swinging in the wind

this way, then that.

 

Where can you hide

in this glass house of yours,

with the statues you carved

out of all the words swallowed instead of spoken

and choked up behind closed doors,

with tomorrow still pressed up against the windows.

 

And what do you say

to the policeman with the kind eyes

who takes a statement,

writes down eyes like old iron lamps,

and promises that they will look into it

while tomorrow is still pressed up against the windows.

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Tonight we’re being asked to think about the days of the week with our poems, and I’ve wandered a little off topic with mine by focusing in on the idea of tomorrow.

While you’re here, I just thought I’d mention that my poetry collection ‘It’s All In The Blood’ is available to buy through Amazon.co.uk and Amazon.com. It’s a self-published venture and a project that I’m incredibly proud of. I owe a huge amount of thanks to all of the dVerse Poets who have read and commented on my blog over the last couple of years for encouraging me in my writing, and helping me develop my poetic skills to the point where I could create a collection like this. Taking part in the dVerse prompts has become one of my favourite parts of the week and I’ve met some truly wonderful people. Thank you for everything.

 

18 Comments

    1. Thank you Sarah, it’s very exciting. A bit of a pain to try and promote, requires a whole new set of skills that I wasn’t quite prepared for. I’m not sure if it’s my Englishness but every time I try to talk to someone about it I feel like I need to apologise for intruding on their time first.

  1. Shakespeare has found his way into your poem, Carol – there’s a touch of ‘Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow’. I love the peeping-Tom creepiness of:
    ‘Tomorrow has taken to pressing up against the windows,
    fingers splayed on the glazing’
    and the surreal dreamlike quality of the glass house with statues and
    ‘…the policeman with the kind eyes
    who takes a statement,
    writes down eyes like old iron lamps’.

  2. You had me at those /eyes like old iron lamps/. Kudos for choosing “tomorrow” . I wonder if anyone will choose yesterday?

  3. I can feel tomorrow pressed up against the glass, and how we write poems with all the words we werent allowed to (or able to) say through the years. I like the policeman with kind (hopefully) eyes who will look into things. Very cool.

  4. I think my favorite line is this, “with the statues you carved
    out of all the words swallowed instead of spoken” so very evocative of hard words chiseled out of marble, taking up all the space and air in a room. Hard to get around or ignore. Very nice imagery.

  5. Reblogged this on Reena Saxena and commented:
    Where can you hide

    in this glass house of yours,

    with the statues you carved

    out of all the words swallowed instead of spoken

    and choked up behind closed doors,

    Enjoy a lovely poem by Carol Forrester..

  6. First, a wonderful image of time pressed up against the windows. And second congratulations on the book!

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