All posts tagged: poem

How Dark #DVersePoetics

Someone says ‘look how dark it is, how black’ to a sky mottled by streetlights almost navy blue with the singing of bulbs whistling away shadows, their footprints of fake dawn greying the corners of this bedroom so the only true night is behind lids of clamped tight eyes wishing I could say ‘looking how dark it is, look how black and thick this night sits now the hours have turned to quiet.

Playing With Polyptotons #DVersePoets

Slipping I slipped deeper on every word you spoke, caught up in the letters like giants and their fingers pinioned and pyloned at the edges of my reason, they made a fence around my certainty. Territorial of territory you deemed dangerous you became guard dog reversed. All teeth and snarl when I made to leave. Or maybe that was me biting the hand at my collar…

Your Majesty #TuesdayPoetics

Always pointed in words and pose.   Perfect poise, perfect response, perfect timing.   Held yourself above the rest of us.   My own feet too leaden.   My words dropped like iron anchors through deck and hull. Took the ship down with me.   You reached or so I thought when I grasped for your hand.   You were simply gesturing to the view beyond.  

There Are Better Things I Could Have Used This Memory Space For #DVersePoets #PoeticsNight

You. It’s burnt into my memory that open mouthed gape swallowing my words, and the back turned mid-sentence on an answer to a question you had asked only for the slow spin, arm triangled over your head as you scratched your scalp, and those frown scrunched nostrils somehow still flared in a state of confusion when I refused to speak to a man not facing me.    

Set Course #DVersePoets #Quadrille

Always just sort of truly set these ways wobble wonderfully, or is it woefully? Uncertain if they’re certain about the shape of the course decided upon, waited upon, debated upon. This is what has been done. So far… for now… Not quite as pictured. A very quick poem before I head to bed tonight. It was my first night back on the judo mat, so I’ve only just got home, but I didn’t want to miss the Quadrille night. Can’t wait to read the others tomorrow. (P.S, I almost think this might count as a political poem… huh… not really done one of those before.)

Metaphorically Speaking – #DVersePoets

You with your oak bark hands planted on the bank just before the hill drop to what is now town.   I could see worlds still turning in your memory, as if the clock stopped in a hundred different places.   I even recognise a few of the people caught here in this last place of green before the concrete and brick.   It is a cruelty to take you from this bank above town. It is crueller still to take all this away. My mother thinks I should try to write some less heavy poems, and I have been trying, but they all seem to twist into the shadows.