Static Begins A Storm – #Poem By Carol J Forrester

This trail of fingerprints is simply browsing.
Palm pressed to the hollow of your spine
before you step out of the moment,
leave this touch behind you in that second
where electric ran your length
and cracked between your ribs
as something begins burning. 

I’ve combined by love of sketching and poetry to make some poem postcards for ‘The Muse Spits Blood’. They turned out rather nicely, so I think I might have to make some more postcards for the other quadrilles I have written over the past few years.


Just a murmur, a whisper,

that was all it was.

Passed like an injured bird,

cupped between your hands,

palms hollowed so not to crush its wings

heart a juddering drum beneath feathers.

It sang to me

like you did.

It gave me life.


It’s Quadrille night over at the dVerse Poets Pub. Tonight’s prompt is ‘murmur’.



How often have you woken

a bolt

in our bed.

Eyes wide, lungs strangled

fighting for breath,

my watchman,

my lover,

my eyes in the dark,

how is it

that night now comes

to bore holes in your heart?

Once upon

another life you say.

You paced these streets,

these city streets,

let lanterns guide your way.

But now we have no lanterns,

and now you have no light,

and all my watchman is,

is afraid of the night.

Haughmond Abbey