Sunday, 23 March 2014

Sunday night clear out



my bed by Tracy Emin


i hid my head under the pillow
sheets rucked up
pale linen and starched
waiting for the quiet 
left behind
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
one day
when the stains and dirt fade
eventually
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
and mock
in the cold light of morning
i am nothing
but letters
jumbled on a vellum page.

KD 23/2/14

The other poets work is here

Saturday, 22 February 2014

Flowers in my hair.

Sometimes I have an identity crisis
this is one of those times
years race on
and i dig my heels in
hard
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
turn
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

promise


Universal Studios Lot, Instagram by sessepien 


the sofa squeezed through the door
slightly scraping the cedar wood frame
the patchwork throw
and
faded rugs followed
boxes
bulging with memories
which taking out
and turning over 
passed away a good few hours
of not thinking about 
'my situation'
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
i arranged
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.

2014 KD

Please do go and read the other poets work here.





Sunday, 2 February 2014

ruby fruit



Against the ebony
toes painted in ruby fruit
sparkled
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.

Sunday, 26 January 2014

winter 1978


the mill by andrew wyeth 1964

the waggons broken
we hefted the hay on our backs
out to the fields
finding the missing ones
buried in the white out
just a small air hole
letting us know their place
freed they skitter to the flock
then find food and comfort
i stretch my back
my breath steams with the exertion
the fluttering comes again
close pulled coat protects
i hope the next night is easier
for us all.


in another life.....on a hill farm.....harsh winters......we are all mothers....
the mag is here for the other poets work

Monday, 13 January 2014

White Horses




we ride the swell
your hooves submerged
in a sea green foam
flanks dripping salt water
but we go on
dappled sunlight on dappled grey
hands wound round
coarse white mane
as i grip to stay with you
wind whipping
slaps laughter back at me
as you rear and buck
with the joy
of galloping with the white horses.

My interpretation of this amazing picture of la Jument of the coast of Brittany by Jean Guichard, to see the others go to The Mag.