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All That Is You. #NationalPoetryDay


Today is National Poetry Day – here is my effort.  Comment below. Or don’t, it’s really up to you. #ImNotTheBossOfYou (probably)

The memory of the roughened finger tips,

that brushed aside the stray hair falling over my face as I read.

And gut wrenching, hot, violent kisses that betrayed me;

made lies of my refusal to love you.

The fire flickers, pops and spits with a shower of  light

into the silence where sleep, leering and restless, waits for me.

I pull my winter blanket tighter around me,

but I can’t wrap out the chill or defend against the icy grip at my throat.

I won’t escape the lingering ghost of

all that is you.

The gravel in the voice, demanding the bones of me

after the sloughing of my skin; scarred, stretched, abandoned

in the dusty corner where the spiders always go.

The desperate bite, searing through raw muscle and synapse

with the throb and arch of alarming penetration.

The gentle laughter, accompanying the triumph over the

yielding of my flesh and my will.

The aim; my exposure, stark and total,  now drifts, entropic

in half forgotten days.

All that, is you.

Time. A 6 x 6 square poem.


A few weeks back, Wyeth Bailey (@dangerousweets on twitter) posted a brilliant square poem that she had written in a poetry group, you can find it on her site > http://www.dangerouslysweet.com. I wanted to have a go but haven’t had the time until now. So tonight at about  10 pm I sat down with notebook and pen and began……. three A4 sides of paper and 3 HOURS later – this is what I have come up with.

TIME ~

We have so little time here.

Have we forgotten wonderful hours spent?

so forgotten childhood memories become lost?

Little, wonderful memories fade. After years

time – hours – become after thoughts – diminish.

Here – spent – lost years diminish – unravel

 

This shit is hard! so quite frankly, if you don’t like it, you can bugger off! 🙂

Love

P

xx


Heart of the Hedonist

So it was clearly by some sort of miracle that I wound up here tonight. I saw her dancing at the club and I watched her. Covetous, eyes veiled,  I just sat, sipped my drink and watched her.  No, she wasn’t a spectacular dancer, she had some moves sure but she wasn’t outstanding in that capacity. I don’t know why, but for some reason I couldn’t stop looking. I liked the way her hair trailed over her bare shoulders. She would stop now and then, to laugh with one of her friends and lose herself for a minute in happiness. She was self-conscious and self-aware, knew she was attracting attention. She seemed a little uncomfortable at times. I thought she might be a straight girl, dragged here by her friends. I was wrong.

The mystery was why she had chosen me? Out of all the beautiful women in the club tonight, she had homed in on me. I…

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