Poetry

Word Vomit

Like a cork that’s just been popped from

a bottle tense with shaken soda

it all spills forth, disregarding the plan, the time limit

the need to focus on one issue.

 

No rules, it’s all going tidal, a tsunami

coming from a still glassy lake.

Poetry

Keep sake

My heart is a trinket box

previously filled with costume jewellery

lovely in its own way

but I have sensitive skin

and you know how metals react with sensitive skin

over time.

 

I wore it often

thinking that I always would

claiming the style matched my own

even on days it turned my skin green

or threw up a rash.

 

It wasn’t until after a decade had passed

that it occurred to me I’d been avoiding

the obvious truth.

No matter how much I adored it

it was not a true match.

We weren’t compatible

in the way I thought

and gradually it had spilt out of my heart-box

leaving me empty.

 

Empty

enough to be filled

with something truly precious.

Not a trinket

not a necklace

not another box.

 

A living beating pulsing heart.

My own.

Poetry

Finish line

It struck me as rain from a light cloud

hit by the silvery rays of the moon.

A month later, it had solidified

to become blocks of crystal

that I neatly began shaping into

the foundations of a wall.

Three months after that, the wall

stood the same height as me.

Then it overtook me,

and grew into a cliff

I was struggling to climb.

The more I tried,

the further I slipped.

But determination is a strong summon,

and when I took a moment

to combine it with time,

the cliff melted

and showed me the shining words within.

Poetry

My favourite things

Brilliant crisp snow and frost covered berries,

Footprints that mark out our path and adventures,

Robins that flit from bush to tall tree,

seeing all of these things makes me happy as can be!

 

When the storm hits,

when the bills come,

when I miss that call,

I simply go off to my memory bank,

and then I don’t feel

so small!