Tag Archives: original poetry

I remember (poem of mine)

I remember the rush of the air

The sense of death

was so alive

in the pulses

surrounding me

I think I died many times

before I was here

and the palpability

of loss

and regret

as thick

as the wish

on my lips.

A full moon

and black, black


a hand on mine

in the night

I meet your eye.

Do not deceive me


black night.


As I was

surrounded by your smog

to breathe

was a dream.

I lay untouched

in my fort,


Do not touch me.

I remember

I remember

the air as thick as burning timber

And to breathe,

Like a dream,

your hand on mine

A dream,

A dream,

A dream.



Sick of sense (poem of mine)

I do not know my self
The one who salutes me
As a shadow
At the foot of my bed.

Dark, dark creature,
Who sucks the daylight from my pores
Who steals the moonshine
That coats my floors.

The moon,
The sick, sick, moon.
The marble, sugary,

I do not know my self
The one who stands
At the foot of the bed
Who breathes the sweet air?
Who sleeps with my dreams?

Trespass (poem of mine)

“Do you realise,
You are very ill”
The question flickered
A little
There we were
Like caged moths
Buzzing at the bulbs
In the empty corridors
Oval faces
Partly obscured
The cloudy white
Of the window panes.
Extra secure.
“Can I have a drink?”
2 hours later
Isolation sets in,
Thirst creeps at the
Back of my throat.
Scream in a never ending
And I intrude
On doorways filled with
Flailing limbs
And hovering
The rubbery blue
Of the awaiting mattress
Holds your face in that
Palsy hands
Jangle bunches,
Branches of
Metal clunks
The days
Many pauses
Flashlight beams
Illuminate a foggy,
Dense sleep.
I dream of overturning
The churning
Is no help.
In this little city
Of trespassers.

Take a drink (poem of mine)

Give me these hands of hope
Let me see
These palms
Turned open
Let me see a shyness
Dissolve like a dye –

Disaster will follow
I took the warnings on my shoulders,
The mornings on my conscience
Padded with good lucks
Trembling with the good will.

It is too clear
And memories march
Through memories
Pain tingles
As a sensation

“Take a drink” he said,
And I
Swung between the two,
My polarities

I don’t want my eyes open (poem of mine)

I don’t want my eyes open
I want the black dreams
The jittery
I want the revelation
Of turning clouds
And pale skies
That drown like
Ghosts in the light.

I don’t want my eyes open,
I want peace
Like a plain sheet
And a window propped
To an outside chorus
And a mind as clear
As a blue day.

I don’t want my eyes open
To feel my stomach churn
Head burning with conversation
The friction
Of the daily grind.
I don’t want
My eyes open.

Girl I will never see again (poem of mine)

She was beauty’s muse,
I saw her once
Alone in a cafe,
Elbows propped
At crooked angles,
The soft trail of a jaw bone
Framed with a curl at the neck.
I felt as if,
My bones had ruptured,
Legs gave way
At the knee,
And feet turned webbed
On the wet cement.

I asked her once
Or twice
In my head
If I could take a seat,
We turned pages of books
Like wind turns leaves on an Autumn day
And I felt the brush of her wrist,
Soft as a newborn lamb,
And the warm glow
Of the brown tinder in her eye,
Glowed at the hearth inside me.

I asked her once,
Or twice
In my head
If I could take a seat,
And I watched myself,
Walk on by,
A turned face,
Turned down
Against the oncoming rain.

Mummy issues. (Poem of mine)

You unquiet the silence in my head
But I say nothing
I try to seek solace
In others
Their rigid replies
Of little help
To my aches
And pains.
It was never just a teenage angst
Though I fought
Though I was tempestuous
Un-observant of the etiquette
You forced upon me,
In pinks and frills
And politeness,
I always wanted to fight back.
Now it is a constant expectation
That I live up to your
I am sorry but
I’d rather not.
Paint the ceiling,
Mop the floor,
I feel as if,
I am repeating the old cliché
Of a slave driver,
herding their cattle.
Perhaps it is
Amateur dramatics,
I do not want to live with you,
Love is best lived,
From a distance.