All posts tagged: dversepoetspub

As One #DVersepoets #TuesdayPoetics

There is a collective misguided assumption, that we know the words. Singing like rusted taps, gargling and spluttering our way to the chorus where enthusiasm trumps experience, and pipes swell and burst so all is noise and furious revelry. The wave of it crests breaks, washes us along to the next line. As real as the misting of our breaths as we sing. The cold is not felt in the thick of it.

Bloom #DVerse Poetry Forms – #Pantoum

When you arrived as the snowdrops melted, pressed cherry blossom to my breast, told me love is like a flower in bloom, already closer to an end than the start.   Pressed cherry blossom to my breast, found thorns that left their marks, already closer to an end than the start when sorrow grew from these seeds.   Found thorns that left their marks, taught me how to cut out dead wood, when sorrow grew from these seeds pruning became vital to overall survival.   Taught me how to cut out dead wood, told me love is like a flower in bloom, pruning became vital to overall survival when you arrived as the snowdrops melted.

Privilege Does Not Always Protect

Little girls are taught that boys being boys, will torment to show their love.   Big girls will claim that love makes up for bruises, broken bones and split lips.   I am lucky not to have known that sort of that love. I’ve never been struck by someone claiming their heart beats for me while echoing the beating with their fists.   When it happens to a man they are reduced to the weaker sex, because it’s bad enough when a woman doesn’t have the balls to leave.   Without experiencing the same thing I can’t say for certain, but I’ve carried enough fear with me to understand what it is to cling to the things we know.   Privileged, is a tricky word to stick when most of us hide the things dragging us down.

A Garden Variety Hurt

I looked up what ivy was supposed to represent, after we called the man with the poison to clear the wooden fence panel right to the root. This creeping plant, that works its way between the cracks, and closes its fist so slowly, so quietly, that you cannot see the brickwork break, it’s supposed to represent friendship. I thought about you then, how I’d failed to see how deep you’d planted yourself until the moment that you cracked me clean in half. Like ivy, you keep coming back no matter the cold or the drought, there is no prying those tendrils loose, no poison that will make this shadow of you wither. I must live with the damage you have caused. I must somehow learn how not to crumble.  

Lingering Day

On days like these, I used the playhouse as a stepping stone, to clamber atop the shed and watch the sun set, heat still suffused in the metal beneath my hands. There is a part of me that still wants to creep outside as the sun smudges ocher across the sky. Cocooned in blankets, I can wait until the colours leak from the world completely, leaving only the darkness behind my eyelids as a comparison to prove that the day is not yet fully gone. Is is strange to feel like their is more breath in evenings than any other hour? Tonight I watched the sky creep closer to night in the haze of my bedroom. Curtains pulled tight against the light while I burrow deeper beneath the blankets that offer no warmth. The cold in my bones is no fault of any sunset, but still I pray for it to hurry. To let me lose myself in shadows and sleep. My springs have frozen too hard for the evening to thaw them. Summer moves …