Poetry

Sparking joy

The sand sweeps across the pavement and over our trainers as we scan the beach and the laughing waves. You lean on the railing next to me, talking about how our heads never bumped in the years we’ve worked together and how it’s only now we finally see we had a friend there all along. Mr Crow stalks up behind you, eyeing the decorative chains on your trousers, captivated by the sun’s glint that has also clutched my attention. I point him out and we watch him strut, then make our own way back along the front. Those chains of yours clink together as we walk, side by side and in step, not knowing how close we are until our shoulders touch.

Poetry

Sparklers

The sparks skip from your hands to mine,

Silver tears form in the corners.

I cannot laugh, it isn’t that kind of euphoria.

I am myself, yet most of my puzzle

Matches the gaps in yours. My thoughts

Come from your mouth

And your thoughts appear as vivid pictures

In my mind.

Shall we ramble as we ramble?

Poetry

Light fades on the troll bridge

The light was fading as we talked, water

sloshing against the troll bridge that I was going to leap on

even before you said you were expecting me to.

 

I love how you can take my whimsical moments and wrap

them in tissue paper and ribbon, holding them tight

as if I’d gifted them to you.

 

You couldn’t see the path, only the puddles reflecting us

as we strolled along, together.

It’s so typically you – focusing on what is truly clear

and taking the rest, no matter how difficult, as it comes.

Poetry

A chain is only as strong as its weakest link

There was a lock around my heart,

chains dragging behind me, longer than Jacob Marley’s.

I thought I’d have them forever,

but it turned out that words are a great corrosive,

eating into the toughest metals.

They didn’t come from me, I was too much

on the inside, struck dumb by expectations and resigned attitudes.

They came from you, from a single offer you made

of trying to help me solve a puzzle.

Neither of us realised the puzzle

was ourselves.

Poetry

Gifting season

Surprise!

 

A moment of passing,

threads of an old tale.

 

That’s all it took.

And it brought me back to myself.

Threw back the years.

 

With you, I’m how I was then.

That same core is still here, working the cogs

through the grime and the grit.

They’re tarnished, they’re beaten, they’re dented,

but when you held up the x-ray mirror,

I could see it was still me.

 

The me I always want to be,

but fear to let out in case

she gets hurt, ridiculed.

 

You unfastened her chains

and released her

regardless.

 

And she found she was safe.

You made her safe.

 

You.

Poetry

Prism Song

The warmth from the window hits me in time with the gentle touch of your fingers resting on my shoulder. In this moment, my eyes sweeping over the words of a book you gave me, hungry for the story you knew I’d love, I can glimpse the certainty of our future. It’s always these small things,

small comforts,

that get me. I’m at home in your embrace, alive in your company. And I know, with you, I can achieve all of my dreams. My ambitions don’t worry, scare or intimidate you. You see the spring of my creativity and bathe in it. You help me polish the crystals found in its waters, giving me confidence to share them with the world.

Poetry

Bliss

Your eyes will tell me all I need to know;

they can ask the greatest question,

and give the most honest answer.

 

One concept merging with another,

taking the rough ore of the mind and smelting it

into a pure resonance of the feeling inside.

 

Then everyone else appears.

Cosmic balance has been thrown asunder — they casually waltz into this space,

shattering, roaring like an ocean, waves crashing hard.

Up goes your invisible barrier, concealing

my best friend.

 

But I remember

falling asleep to your heartbeat

pulsing against my ear.

 

I know you’ll always let me in.

You gave me a key after all.

And as our fingers link, those emotions you keep contained

can finally be set free.

 

Like you’ve done for me,

I’ll squeeze the bad thoughts away

so that you can be cheerful again.

Poetry

Platonic

Most of the time when we say

I love you

it’s directed at our spouse, our lover, our other half

but

what of all the other loves

that fill our hearts,

give us warmth, comfort, security?

What of the people

who make us feel like us,

who make us so at ease

that we couldn’t hide ourselves if we tried?

I think it’s time we

told them, too.

So here it is,

plain and simple, my friends:

I love you