Poem: Not

I’m just reviewing my recent poetry. And considering how, when I’ve only just started to write again, after a good year or so of being frozen… It’s pretty dark.

My moods fluctuate alarmingly, as you know, or can imagine, if you ‘know me’ – but, I didn’t realise how ‘dark’ I was.

I worry that I’ll be alone forever, tormented by men forever. Never to be … normal (I did struggle to use a different word just then) and I actually wonder what that would be… ‘normal?’ Everything is so far removed from what ‘normal’ was.

Anyway:

Poem: Not

Warm hands held on a cold night
The stinging hotness of a slap
This is not a picture of love.

Midnight whispers cheek to cheek
Voices raised, mouths wide
This is not the sound of love.

Funny how a smile can miss the eyes
But shards of malice can chip the heart
A blindfold made of water, a soul torn apart

Poem: The quality of dark

I wait for the ‘adjustment’
The opaque film to… clear
I’ve been waiting a while
Eyes strained, nails driven
Into my palm
The minute hand says, ‘ near’.

I’d watched the light retreat
when the sky turned midnight
I braced against the stars
Dreading the bright orb, which dared to rise
And doused the world blue-white.

This is not called patience,
blood seeps between my fingers!
No, just steady, like the moon’s path
Fleeing far from midnight,
And into the darkness linger.

Poem: Beautiful

I glimpse myself through your eyes
Only when I’m most filthy
Your voice, light through mud
flames burning purity
You make me beautiful

I am what I most despise
But you never see me filthy
You see light in thorns,
My flame ignites
You make me beautiful

In my most desolate cries
You whisper what I can be
Shining light through my
Dark heart, Trinity, with me
You are so beautiful

Poem: Sliding

I finish my first quickly, belligerently,
Avoiding clock, phone, others.
I feel my mood falter, dip…slide
Belligerently, I quickly finish my first.

I feel my mood falter, dip, slide
Headlong toward the stinging place.
I finish my first quickly, belligerently
I slide, feeling my mood falter, dip

Finally tired of goodbyes
This night, I choose alone.
I finish my first quickly, belligerently,
I feel my mood falter, dip…slide

The London Poetry Festival: 7th – 10th August 2009

Poets are brave souls. Not only do they pour out their heart into their PCs, choosing the most eloquent words to describe the sometimes stained, sometimes rank, always kaleidoscopic world we live in; they also read them out!

So, knees knocking, i also performed..and it does felt good!

This year my favourites were: ‘Poets in Residence’ Aiko Harman (Link here) and Rowena Knight (Link here).

I was in awe of quietly spoken poetry legend, Michael Horovitz (Link here), both he and his son, Adam read – leaving me feeling as though i’d met the First Family or something!

Prolific writer, and The London Poetry Festival organiser Munayem Mayenin (Link here) gave me a copy of his life’s work – Laranska, The Anatomy of fear…i’m thinking i should get reading!

The Winning Ticket
Dom Perignon and a bumptious new friend,
Danced on my head Sunday morning.
Sock and braless note a rambunctious end
A man on the floor still snoring.