Waiting In The Wings #DVersePoetics

I braided a basket of my fingers,

in case I was required to catch


if you fell from any sort of height

or perhaps needed a boost

to reach a shelf

or a step

on a ladder I could hold

once I’d unwoven these hands

to grip the rungs better

if you eventually decide

to climb.



Image by Pexels from Pixabay



Questions I Still Have – #NaPoWriMo Day Nine

Was I a plaster

you slapped on

to cover the burns

left by your family?

Something temporary,

to hide the harm.


Was he water?

More than you’d seen

all in one place

and so inviting

you were willing

to drown.


Did you lose me

on purpose?

Or did the currents

just pull us apart?


Either way,

did you notice

that I was gone?

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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.



An Apology

I’ve been carrying your shade around

and I think I need to apologise.

I’ve been keeping you closer these days,

tucked between my umbrella

and the notepads,

near the bottom of my handbag

like a half empty pack of tissues.

From time to time I dig you out,

just to turn over our last conversation,

re-read the second hand messages,

remind myself that you’re gone.

I still don’t feel like you’re gone.

I wonder when I will?


I’m a little late to the party for Tuesday Poetics, yesterday turned into something of a manic day with an emergency shoe shopping trip after work, but more about that at the weekend.

The prompt this Tuesday was the word ‘shade’. You can take it anyway you like but the word shade had to appear in the prompt.

Almost A Year On

Some days it’s like you’ve only just slipped through my fingers.

I’m still grasping for the tail-end of a thread,

trying to haul you back up, back to me

and everyone you left.

I feel guilty for the hollowness in my chest,

as if I don’t deserve to miss you this much.

I don’t believe I deserve to miss you this much

because I should have realised the acres of spaces you occupied

inside my head and heart

before the phone call rang in from your mother

and every worst fear was came crashing in like thunder.



For John