It was just bad timing As you always said it was When we fell, when we met When you left, I was bereft It was just bad timing As you always knew it was When we kissed, when we fell When I lost myself, heartbroken hell Bad timing Syncopated love Taken in stolen seconds Shared…
Morning breaks the night Shards of colour in the light Spreading hope and inspiring delight In that brief moment there’s no fight Firey waves through clouds ignite It’s the morning, the day, a welcome sight
Having never done it before I decided to try sketchnoting one of my poems, I wasn’t sure how to go about it to start with so, I’ll be completely honest, I just sort of winged it. But I’m really enjoying the process and it’s an interesting way to see these two things coming together. Here’s…
I’m delighted to say my poem ‘Autumn Storm’ has been published on Spillwords today. Enjoy, Josie x
The ink runs ribbons Caressing the paper As it soothes Fire in my heart The corners curl Inwards from the pressure And ferocity As if to cocoon my words Artistic in it’s catharsis Delightful in it’s musicality The flow and the fall From heart to page Soothes my torment In it’s cadaverous stage The pen &…
A poem about being acutely aware of time, all the moments passing
It's a rhythm, a beat, a subtle intrusion,
It's permanent, present and an illusion.
Whether silent or shouting, time speaks in my tongue,
If you're watching or not it's a siren's song,
That calls and calls in cascaded clicks,
With dulcet tones if the hour permits.
Hypnotically absent, but every where in your mind
Unavoidable awareness of each moment in time.
The hands spin round drawing in my thoughts,
I feel him near, in this space of mine
Turning in my mind with barely a pause,
I can hear him always, Ol'father time.
Moonlight And missing pieces Make a mystery of my motives And my manic heart Makes music In my mind
A free-written poem about a journey through a final goodbye to a loved one, as part of a Grand Guignol suite of monologues in poetic and free verse 'Cabaret of Confessions'
Published on Spillwords in 2016
As she gazes into her eyes can she see the pain,
Will she see the shadows, will she see the shame,
She can see the love, she can see the light,
She can feel the pull, feel her chest coiled tight,
She hopes her heart won't break as she tears away,
Will she hear it crack and feel her fingertips stray,
As they grasp onto the moment that's no longer real
As they clutch for hands that can no longer feel.
Lost reaches — brush nothing, her heart begins to flake
Her soul hopes for sleep and the longing lays awake.
Would she really be missed, her mind starts to break
To feel like she belongs, what would it take...
Love like thunder, as light and as fickle as the promises now unspoken.
A poem about finding the beauty and trying to hold onto the positive after a broken heart.
Published on Spillwords 2016
What's your favourite moment?
The question is often posed,
A recent, beautiful moment,
With hopes and hearts deposed.
And in an instant I can see it,
Feel your body, smell your skin,
Because the beautiful favourite moment,
Is when I end and you begin.
I can still feel my arms around you,
Hear the song as the needle coasts,
The melody, the pedantic cracklings,
The record player contains these Ghosts.
A poem to illustrate those moments where fading out is a comfort or freedom from anxiety, or when the everyday seems overwhelming
Enticing in its familiarity
Terrifying in its ferocity
Alluring in its predictability
Isolating in its contorted comfort
To tired to fight but a light, a flicker of something keeps her here
Unable to catch enough breath
Unaware of the world beyond her thoughts
Self-centred and alone in the thick darkness and heavy silences
It's just wallpaper. It's just an escape.