between the lines

Between the Lines

Love is in the imperfection,
And life is in the mistakes,
So you have to pay attention,
To the silence music makes,

Listen to the beauty between the notes;
Ornate stories of happiness,
Venture beyond the words I wrote,
Enjoy the truth my soul confessed.


This poem was inspired by the two quotes about love shown below. The underlined words in the poem are from the first quote. The letters in bold spell out ‘last love’, which is from the second quote.

Since love grows within you, so beauty grows. For love is the beauty of the soul.

- Saint Augustine

Being someone’s first love is great, but being someone’s last love is beyond perfect.

- Unknown



Reciprocal need;
I need him
and he needs me,
I scratch his back,
He scratches mine,
We plod along,
We’re doing fine,
But when did this
become enough?
When did symbiosis
replace true love?
When did meeting
fundamental needs
replace both romance
and chemistry?
Deeds that once
were fuelled by love
are now transacted
with a lack thereof,
We may stand together
as we trudge through life,
But he’s no more a husband
than I am a wife.
We’re partners
of a different kind,
Our marriage certificate;
a contract signed,
One that can quickly
be un-penned
if one partner
fails to hold up their end,
This give and take
is more take than give,
Is this really how
we’ve come to live?
Who knew that
it would come to this?


This post was inspired by an episode of Go, Diego, Go! that I was watching with my daughter this morning. Diego helped to reunite Hippo and his symbiotic friend Oxpecker after there were separated. Inspiration comes from the most unusual places at times, doesn’t it?!

Fisherman cartoon


Cold Toast

When some things are changed,
They are changed for good,
Cold toast is not bread,
And ash is not wood.
When I looked at you,
Selfishness ended,
All thoughts of me were
promptly suspended.
When you looked at me,
With innocent eyes,
I knew I was changed,
Completely revised.
There’s nothing at all,
Not one single thing,
No war I won’t fight ,
No neck I won’t wring,
No thing I won’t do,
Dear daughter, dear son,
Cold toast is still toast,
And mums will be mums.



I could drink of you and live forever
in just the comfort of your gaze,
Great pools of an untainted elixir
that soothe me in so many ways.

Your voice is a pretty incantation,
that paints itself across the air,
As it snakes its charm right into my mind
and holds me still; here but nowhere.

Some say that it must be pseudoscience,
Alchemy, or so I’ve been told,
That you’ve taken the iron from your blood
and forged a true heart of pure gold.


Ode to Coffee

I can taste the electrification
as it courses through my nose,
As it sparks each hair like static
and then jolts into my dome.
Rich and full and bitter,
With a depth I’ve never known,
I can all but see the flavour;
It has a body of its own.
The scent whispers to me softly,
Dulcet Siren of the steam,
I can feel her energise me
as she drags me from my dream.
There is no other aroma,
I must pointedly conclude,
That’s so sensuously sating
as my saintly morning brew.

This poem was written using the daily poetry prompt over at Pooky’s Poems. Today’s challenge was to describe a smell.


Out on a Limb

Sometimes, you find yourself out on a limb
for a friend, but then there is no sign of him,
You’re tottering, pondering why you are there,
What possessed you risk it for those who don’t care?
Your kindness was trampled; just dirt on a hoof,
Advantage was taken – how awfully uncouth!
You desperately cling to the good deed you just did,
But be honest; it gets your goat, doesn’t it kid?


Image Credit: Getty
Inspired by a piece posted by the Huffington Post


Geek to Geek

Don’t let anyone tread on your dreams;
They’re each graciously worthy of light,
Don’t let anyone tell you that you can’t;
Because you can, just as long as you fight.

Stop doubting what lives in your heart;
It knows so much more than your mind,
Stop thinking that emotion is weakness;
There’s great strength in a love of your kind.

Never forget all that living has taught you,
And pay attention – the lessons don’t stop,
Never be ashamed of how much you shine;
You were destined to reach for the top.

Keep dreaming and loving and learning,
Keep your mind open to all that you see,
Keep the pain; you will learn how to shape it,
And become what you hoped you would be.

(P.S. Just some extra advice…
Fret no more about being a geek,
You’ll be surprised just how quickly things change;
Geeks are now quite delectably chic!)

This piece was inspired by a prompt on Pooky’s Poems, where we were encouraged to write poems to our teenage selves.

What was then treated as geekiness, I now proudly call intelligent worldliness, what was then fat, I now say is womanly, what was then hypersensitive I now call altruistic and what was then daydreaming is now ambition.

Everything I hated about myself then I adore now… Isn’t hindsight a b****?

Dark Chocolate

Dark Chocolate

You once told me you were a box of chocolates,
Said I’d never know quite what I’d get,
And you said you weren’t any old chocolates;
You were Green & Blacks – simply the best!

And just like that aforesaid chocolate,
You were dark, smooth, rich and so sweet,
You tasted like some heavenly nectar
(and smelt, felt, and looked magnifique!)

Oh the malevolent wings of memory!
They’ve just carried me swiftly away,
Back to when your love was my master
and it whipped me as if I were its slave.

Did you hear that I once sat up all night,
Just hoping that you’d give me a call?
I begged myself, “Rena, please sleep!”
I can almost touch the pure shame of it all.

There’ll be a headline explaining my death:
Clogging Cocoa Causes Coronary!
You’ll have stopped my poor heart from, well, beating,
Then shrugged it off with a trite, “Ces’t la vie!

You might just be earth’s mightiest scumbag!
Like the wicked witch was to Dorothy,
And I’m quite sure that this isn’t Kansas,
So no ruby Manolo’s for me.

I hate you! I hate you but love you…
I guess you’re just that kind of guy;
One minute you make me feel scuzzy,
The next, you are making me fly.

Now I’m boiling like water for chocolate!
(But I know you won’t get the analogy;
It doesn’t mean that I’m totally hot for you,
It means that I’m delectably angry…)

My God, you’re just so much like chocolate,
But not like you said at the start;
You’re an unrefined, bitter old bean
that plays ping pong with poor puny hearts.

napo2014button2This poem was written for NaPoWriMo. Today’s challenge was to write “Twenty Little Poetry Projects”. Essential another recipe poem with the following twenty rules (I think I got most of them):

  1. Begin the poem with a metaphor.
  2. Say something specific but utterly preposterous.
  3. Use at least one image for each of the five senses, either in succession or scattered randomly throughout the poem.
  4. Use one example of synesthesia (mixing the senses).
  5. Use the proper name of a person and the proper name of a place.
  6. Contradict something you said earlier in the poem.
  7. Change direction or digress from the last thing you said.
  8. Use a word (slang?) you’ve never seen in a poem.
  9. Use an example of false cause-effect logic.
  10. Use a piece of talk you’ve actually heard (preferably in dialect and/or which you don’t understand).
  11. Create a metaphor using the following construction: “The (adjective) (concrete noun) of (abstract noun) . . .”
  12. Use an image in such a way as to reverse its usual associative qualities.
  13. Make the persona or character in the poem do something he or she could not do in “real life.”
  14. Refer to yourself by nickname and in the third person.
  15. Write in the future tense, such that part of the poem seems to be a prediction.
  16. Modify a noun with an unlikely adjective.
  17. Make a declarative assertion that sounds convincing but that finally makes no sense.
  18. Use a phrase from a language other than English.
  19. Make a non-human object say or do something human (personification).
  20. Close the poem with a vivid image that makes no statement, but that “echoes” an image from earlier in the poem.

A Bit Like Lightning

An extremely tall Bulgarian man
of less than average looks
was talking to a pretty thing
who would be described as shorter
But that pretty thing
(who considered his looks to be minor
and was more so struck
with what was inside)
ignored the unlikely chances
that society sets out for people like
The Unlikely Two
(who were talking
like there were just two
people on the planet).
In just three weeks
things were really developing
and in a year things were
it was not one bit
by the book.
Two unlikely people,
according to the world.
Two very unlikely people
that are just
so much more
as one.
What are the odds?
It’s a bit like lightning,
one would explain.
Or maybe it’s like lightning twice.
We’re talking about a lottery win;
the improbability of it.
But what a royal result!

napo2014button2This poem was written for NaPoWriMo. Today’s challenge was to choose a news story and use only words from that article to write a poem. The story I chose was called “What are the chances of being hit by lightning” and you can see it in full here.


Love Locked

Across the river Seine,
In a city called Paris,
A wall of love was raised,
Forged by lock and key,
Promises were made,
By sweethearts passing by,
Indulging in a moment
that’s now frozen for all time.

Couples who dared to dream
that they’d forever be,
Left these transitory hopes
for all the world to see;
Sentimental, set in metal,
Inscribed with saccharine vows.

I just can’t help but wonder where
these lovers are right now…

Poetry by Serena Malcolm Copyright 2014 All Rights Reserved


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