Monday, 21 April 2014
Finland 1968 by gf mobely
i turned from the colour
stung by the canary and robin
eyes streamed with ice shards
i clung onto the black
focusing on the birch trees
and their monochrome bark
mottled like my feet
in their inappropriate footwear.
Do go to the Mag to see the other poets work...
Friday, 18 April 2014
Sunday, 23 March 2014
my bed by Tracy Emin
i hid my head under the pillow
sheets rucked up
pale linen and starched
waiting for the quiet
the squalor of the night before
the night before
the days before
the years before
fading with the rising sun
the detritus of our long existence
once hidden from view is now bundled in black sacks waiting for the Monday Trash Man
when the stains and dirt fade
i will breath again
with no thought of you.
my take on the fabulous Tracy Emins work.....go here to see the others work at the mag....reading this back i think i need therapy!!
Sunday, 23 February 2014
image ; poets sleep 1989 Chang Houg Ahn
i slept with the light on
my words scared me in the dark
script returned to haunt
in the cold light of morning
i am nothing
jumbled on a vellum page.
The other poets work is here
Saturday, 22 February 2014
this is one of those times
years race on
and i dig my heels in
the person i usually see in the mirror
seems so different to the one inside
a mixture of facets of my life
i worry about how the world judges me
as judge, people invariably do
i should aim for the highest compliments
but would be grateful for any tiny interest
pass me in the street
blink and i might fade away
i feel i might have to stand and shout
but that goes against the grain
as of a seen and not heard child.
Today i wore flowers in my hair
they were meant for someone else
now they are in the trash
a few flash shots and their time was over
their glory crushed in a wave of indifference.
Sunday, 16 February 2014
Universal Studios Lot, Instagram by sessepien
the sofa squeezed through the door
slightly scraping the cedar wood frame
the patchwork throw
faded rugs followed
bulging with memories
which taking out
and turning over
passed away a good few hours
of not thinking about
windows flung open
the sound of life on the street drifted up
the shout and squeal
laughter and bark
an afternoons heat on the street
and re-arranged things until their presence pleased me
later i looked through the evening sweat
and saw the stars above me
a promise hugged me close.
Please do go and read the other poets work here.
Sunday, 2 February 2014
Against the ebony
toes painted in ruby fruit
revlons nineties vintage
from the back of the cabinet
along with a clutter of dried mascara and dead powder puffs.
See the others here at The Mag.