Morning

The hills turn to clouds
As they meet the horizon
Mist obscures them
With such poeticism
As if mirroring
My clouded thoughts

The cold air
Soothes my burning mind
As each day
I hope
To leave your
Choices
Behind.
A new day
A step away
And towards myself

Sometimes

A quick bit of free writing falling its way onto my tiny phone keys as I travel

Somedays she feels lost
Sometimes she feels completely secure
Somedays there’s a cost
Somehow she will always endure
Some may see her and say she has less
Some are unaware how their thoughts oppress

She sometimes has no shadow
Some days she has no sense of being
She sometimes has no echo
Sometimes she has no way of seeing
Some may see this as a lesser thing
Some are unaware how her heart and mind sing

She feels so acutely, empathy is her curse
She can also feel nothing, nothing can be worse
More richness, more fear, more darkness, more light
More empathy, more despair but most of all more fight.

The gift (#TastyPoem)

Originally one of my micro poems on Twitter the prompt word Oblivion (#TastyPoem) was the inspiration for this one.

She paused, what was it, what was it she could almost see,
Almost feel, to touch, an unsteady, feeling; uncertainty.
But an excitement too, with her stomach floating high
But her heart falling heavy,  she exhaled with an overwhelming cry
As if from nowhere her eyes filled with tears – un-cried
It was as if she was looking on, not in but outside.
Then it was clear, in a moment she knew,
Her pattern of remembrance was right on cue.

The divine coloured crimson caught in a crystal beam,
Reminded her of him; how intoxicating, he had been.
Her oblivion, her delight, her home and her man
Now lost to her and this world, this was never in their plan.
Every now and again, she’d return to this moment and smile
To sit and be with him, let her self dream, just for a while.

The wine’s bouquet held a memory, like he was there,
She could almost feel him run his fingers through her hair,
Then a laugh began to bubble in the back of her throat,
This cocktail of emotions, and only one she could note,
Love.
She raised the glass to her lips with a triumphant lift
Liquid swirls and her heart takes it in; a living memory, like a gift.

In your arms

A sketch Inspired by some meat loaf lyrics: ‘In your arms I think I’ve found the safest place to fall’

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Sometimes there are moments
Where you feel you’re free falling, fast or slow,
Sometimes in those moments
You find a new hand that you can hold.
When you feel the most invisible
Feel absent, lost or disengaged,
In your disconnected haze you find
Comfort, unexpected, in a heart once estranged;
It’s like a new breath –
It’s like a jolt, like a flicker –
Something to keep holding on for,
As the fears and shadows wither.

The Shrew

A soliloquy for Katerina in Taming Of The Shrew; how she feels about her father’s lack of understanding & his devotion to her sister

Katerina:

O’he knows not how I need not to love,
How I need not no man to take my heart in his.
They lack the tact and empathetic sentiment
To truly care for or woo such a tender soul that of a woman,
Their hearts and minds are all but rough in their thinking,
looking to prove and impress, to compete and to win
They fight and duel for love, they do not relish and enjoy it.
I will enjoy, I will relish, I will exploit my empathetic soul
And I will fight to meet my match, may no man derive any other means
Nor challenge me, for though I love like a woman
I can fight like a man for that love.
My bitterness is but a veil to infuriate the subjective nature of my father’s love,
He, above all men, proves that beauty is more to a man than spirit,
My spirit is as much-mellow as he desires but shall not appear so
Until one worthy of such vulnerability is near to my heart.
My father loves my sister for her simplicity, her beauty and her flirtatious manner,
She draws in money, attention and bewilderments
Which can only benefit him and his purpose,
I on the other hand… disappoint. But soft, here comes my sister.

So she sits

This is quite what you might call a ‘raw’ poem about depression, As a woman loves, waits and holds on to her Partner through a tough day.
Published on Spillwords December 2016

So she sits.
We sit, together – but apart.

She waits and wonders if things will change.
Her disengagement from the world humble and acquiescent.
At peace with the turbulent thoughts that she stumbles through.
There is no time left to wonder or wander through time.
The heat of the passion which no longer burns was matched only by the furnace of ferocious fears which tore her apart inside.

We had waited. I always waited.
Waited, unaware of the pain she was in.

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Courage

An excerpt from a monologue as part of my ‘Cabaret of Confessions’ suite.

Courage? What is courage?
It’s survival,  I guess.
I survived you.

Heartbreak.

Heartbreak can be full of emptiness.
So empty you’re full of it.
Overwhelming; energy in absence, anger, tears.
I used mine, did  you?

In a passion of bad timing and good intentions my life changed… I guess I just didn’t know it yet

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