Fourteen Weeks – A Poem By Carol J Forrester

The size of a lemon,
which reminds me of a fruit tree,
miniature,
leaves buttered up and green
as the unripe citruses berried in-between…
and this is much the same,
this slow uncurling as you ripen
my own belly thickening till I peel
off my layers,
test the softness around my middle,
squeeze the fruit flesh.
You feel all this apparently,
spin like a top, end over end
become a flicker in a whirlwind.
Still hidden by your smallness,
little lemon pip blooming.

I’ve missed quite a few DVersePoets night over the past couple of months, and that’s mainly been because I’ve spent all my free time napping. The little Gremlin above is due this summer, and I’ve had all the fun of pregnancy sickness to content with, so my writing took a bit of a hit. My husband and I are very excited to welcome our little human into the world, and I thought what better way to tell my poet friends the news, than with a poem for the Open Link Night!

Low Hanging Fruit – #DVersePoets

Bark bitten calves hooked in place,

perfect ‘v’ ankle to hip.

Silly stretch of bare belly

concave as you swing.

Cheeks round with storm winds.

Filled sails of a fallen shirt.

Billowed until breathless and grinning

stained knees knocked loose

there’s still another turn.

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Tales From The Bellies Of Beasts #DVersePoets #TuesdayPoetics

I usually solve problems by letting them devour me.

There are useful things inside wolves and shadows,

sharp things

with moonlight in the blades

to show the way back out

from the darker places in the bellies of beasts

that perhaps may not be beasts

once they’ve be carved into smaller, scurrier things

that run rather from, rather than swallow

all the things that shine.

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Image by mohamed Hassan from Pixabay

NaPoWriMo – Day One: Dupe

Dupe

When I was told that for two years

you squeezed your eyelids shut

each time a sneeze scuttled upwards

and threatened your sinuses,

for fear of them bursting from their sockets,

I hid my smile with two hands of guilt.

I buried my bead of triumph.

That lick of power

burning like a forest fire in my lungs

as laughter bubbled in its pot

threatened to burst the lid,

and show the world how much I loved,

the idea that I had tricked you.

So fully,

so unintentionally well

that even your best friend failed

in convincing you it was a lie.

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We’re finally here and I’m practically bouncing off the walls with excitement. As with every other year that I’ve taken part, I took one look at the prompt this morning and went “pftt, I can’t write something for that,” and walked away from it. A few hours later the little seed that it left in my brain came up with half an idea and I managed to write a poem for it.

The prompt was to write a poem based on a secret shame or a secret pleasure. This memory was actually a mixture of both. As a child I told my sister’s best friend that if she sneezed with her eyes open then her eyes would pop out, that’s why we close out eyes. It was nonsense of course but she believed me and years later my sister revealed that from that day on she’d taken to screwing her eyes shut in terror each time she sneezed for fear she’d accidentally leave them open and both her eyes would pop out.

It was one of those moments where you feel both mean and a little proud that you managed to trick someone so completely. It also made for the perfect response for this prompt.