poetry

by

In the Park

Poplars throw piano key shadows
on labyrinthian paths

while the military flowers
nod together complaining of the heat

Kids paddle in the pool
sucking on lollies which stain their icy lips

Couples lay pink-skinned against the grass
too steamy to canoodle

Dogs leave trails of drips from
their dips in the lake

And no-one plays football
or runs for fun

I sit on the solitary swing
in my best red dress and rosy shades

and whilst I wait for you
all the world slows

by

Regretting

film-strip-2-2

Wet windows reflect
the cheeks of the wayward girl
whose own failings
scythe through her mind
shredding her life
with a thousand cuts 

no action scenes
or joyful romances
in this movie
just harsh edits by
the backroom boys
who don’t like drama

living the seedy lifestyle
of the forgotten
she spends her days
dragging the dry air
the unrepairable past
smouldering at her centre

Outside the starry skies
and bright lights
only cast unwanted shadows
of what could have been
to torment in the twisted
sheet of night

 

by

B List

Posted in response to the Daily Post daily prompt ‘Recognise’

window-display-2
I see you in the mirrored window
of the uptown shop
someone is snapping
another is shouting
I stare at the glass
but not through it
for you outshine that glittering display
with your golden skin
shiny silken hair
and tinkling jewellery
there is a flash of whitened teeth
a brief wave of unblemished hand
then the scent of the ocean
as you leave
and I remain
unnoticed
my brief proximity
to celebrity
now over

by

Kissless

mistletoe

I watched for more than a moment
were you in my sightline
or was I just staring 

You were taking selfies
head thrown back
glass raised

laughing and grinning
hugging best buddies
you didn’t glance towards the corner 

where I sat sipping
tart Lime soda
that made my teeth sting 

And there amid your festive fun
the decorations
froze my heart 

Especially the mistletoe

by

Dalliance

img_0644_1

Lets go down to the bluebell wood
to lie beneath the new sprung leaves

and let the patterns of their shadows

dance upon our bodies
 

And we’ll snuggle

to annul the fresh spring breeze

which bears the scent

of those virgin flowers

that wreath us as we watch 

the insects search

for nectar 

They’ll be no apples nor any snakes

and yet we’ll sin as one

hidden there in bliss

amongst the bracken

and lucky white heather