A few bleak poems for Easter Sunday Evening

Cause that’s the kind of cheery chick I am. But maybe you are too tonight, hey?

Bluebeard

.

My throat is fraught with obstacles

Lodged words that won’t wash down

My ribboned inner robins

Shake this make up of a clown

And you fill my head

As blossom rices cold potato days

So often I have softened

In the starch of your malaise

I’m full on all your empty

But still thirsty for your dry

Sometimes I think I’m getting nearer

But it’s clear I’m getting by….

.

He’s talking to the others

And my ear’s pressed to the door

I’m missing out on parties

I’d be smarter to ignore

But what can you do

When Bluebeard has convinced them

You’re his wife

Use the key you’re not supposed to

Then you flee for all your life

The bones made homes in cellars

With the killers of your soul

Irrelevant pink elephants

Immortalised in coal

Elasticated Stars

.

We typed ripe words in hope

Feelings skating screens as blades

Fizzing, bleeding, juicing, scraping

Every night

.

Me here

You there

Same sky

.

A Milky Way of heartbeat

Glittering, twinkling, sparkling

Over wintering as grateful birds in barns

Each gap of rafter

A kitten squint of almond

.

Me here

You there

Same sky

.

But still, I’d go to sleep

And you’d be far away

Seemed as though our conversations

Were elasticated stars

Your heat and light pulled so tantalisingly close to me

Then cruelly, released

Pinged back, landing somewhere more distant than ever before

A different universe

.

Me here

You there

Another sky

.

And as our luminous celestial hearts stretch, shrink and pound to shawlish dough the colour of matronly rain clouds

Hanging on weary hands - messy, sticky and awkward

As silver points scuff to become grey circles of pavement gum

Dots of chance and once

Compressed as flat, spent, discarded pennies

I wonder if we ever really lit the black heath

The violet mount

The navy moor

Or ever will….

As I force myself to navigate dark

Alone.

Again.

I learned……

Much as I love stars

They have to be constant

One more step

Sometimes, ‘holding on’ looks like…..

Holding nothing

Walking a steep staircase without rails

When you’re a child

And there’s no landing.

Just more climbing.

And more climbing.

And more climbing.

And

You look down…..

And it’s a drop.

Scary.

But …....

What else can you do

Except climb another step…..

Take another breath.

Look how far you’ve come

And……

On some days…..

I find my balance on those stairs

I glide, I’m sugar pink

A competent flamingo

But other days

I’m wobbly as a prodded baby tooth

Wiggling helplessly,

A milky maggot begging pardon

I see those stairs

Want to hurl myself down them

Land as a satisfying splat at the bottom

But that seems to take an awful lot of effort

So, I do what takes least energy

Which is…..

Walk

One. More. Step.

The wind

.

I grazed on you as Eden

I lazed inside your praise

Of all the guys, you were the prize

I wanted for all days

But summer breezes beckon

And I’m freezing from your cold

Don’t reckon I should sicken

Any longer for your gold

.

Oh, the train it kept arriving

On the figure 8 shaped track

The pain of love kept driving

Repetitions of a wreck

And too long we went in circles

As we carried on as friends

Love to hate, so fraught with freight

We took another bend

And the beauty bent in journey

Comes to nothing in the end

A story of a woman

And her wishes on the wind

.

.

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