Tag Archives: metaphors

Sea of Faces

I’m drowning
in this sea of faces,
So many faces,
All eyes on me,
So many eyes,
I’m suffocated,
So many eyes,
But none can see,
My mind rewinds,
Removes all traces,
Inside, my stasis
starts to bleed,
The wounds are born
from sworn self hatred
that filters out
wellwishers deeds,
All good intent
my mind erases,
And in its place;
a rotten seed,
And from it grows
all the hollow aching
Black Dog’s thirst
could ever
need.

Walk in the Wind

I took a moment to

walk

in the

wind,

It took hold of my limbs
and danced me to the skies,

An invisible guide

that found its way
inside my mind
and whispered,

“It will be OK”,

Showed me there’s another way,
That there will be another day
beyond this night,
That it’s all right
to sometimes hide away,

To secrete my tears amidst the rain,

To stifle sobs until they fade,

To mask the pain,

Because a walk inside the wind
clears the cobwebs of all sin,
clears out

e    v     e     r     y     t     h     i     n     g

and muffles all their din
so I can let the right ones in,

Reset,

Restart,

Rescind,

so I can win.

 
 

Photo credit: Radu Voinea

 

Inspired by the dutch word uitwaaien:

uitwaaien

Sleeping Bear

I am a sleeping bear
with the richest hide of tan,
Try and wake me if you dare,
But none too many can.
You can poke and you can tease;
I may grumble, I may moan,
But in a deep passivity
I have made my humble home.
A bear unlike my kin,
Yes indeed I stand apart,
For while I may have thickened skin,
It hides a timid heart.
So sleep is what I choose,
And I choose sleep because it’s safe,
For even the strongest sinews
will give way to strain and fray.
One hundred times you’ll shake me,
One hundred times I will ignore,
One hundred one? Now that will break me
and this sleeping bear will roar.
So the moral here is clear,
The warning; plain to see
I am a sleeping bear
and you’d do well to leave me be.

Outline

I’ll curl up right inside myself,
I’ll curl up and I’ll hide,
I’ll hide there right inside myself,
Shrinking, liquefied,
I’ll curl up right inside myself,
They won’t notice I’m not here,
They’ll think I still fill out my skin,
They won’t see me disappear,
Hollow bones and stringy flesh,
Teeth and hair and nails,
The world will see my outline
While I slowly rub out the details.

Popping Corn

My head is full of popping corn,
Must let the right ones in,
Some are bitter, some forlorn,
All sodden; soaked in sin.

My head is full of popping corn,
A jumbled, maze-like din,
I cannot breathe; my cords are torn,
I’m choking on the string.

My head is full of popping corn,
Can’t let the black dog win,
But his howl’s already filched my dawn,
His dark has drawn me in.

I am a Poem

I am a poem.

A complicated tide
of elements that collide
with purpose.

I can make you feel
electrified,
terrified,
alive inside.

I am niche.

I am gauche.

A guilty pleasure.

A hint of something
that was once so
treasured.

Bad and good
in equal measure.

No value in life…
perhaps in death?

I’ll give
until there’s nothing left.

I am a poem
that’s seldom read
and even then
I’m oft
mis-
read.

I just want to make you feel…
To evoke in you
some buried zeal.

But I am words
and it would seem
no words
can set my essence
free.

A Heart Full of Willow Blossom

I plucked catkins tenderly from a willow,
To show how love captured me when you were born,
I filled the sea endlessly with blonde billows;
No drop unadorned,

They broke the banks, wondrously swathing the land,
With hundreds of heavenly starbursts of gold,
For when you so helplessly searched for my hand,
Your hand found my soul.

napowrimo2015Today’s NaPoWriMo challenge was to write a poem in Sapphics. It’s quite a formal style of poetry with a certain structure and meter (click the link above to find out more). While I’m not sure that I followed the rules perfectly – or even at all – I do like the end result.

Asleep

I looked at him,
Into the emerald of his eye,
And he did not see me,
My fingers passed right through
the rosy blush upon his cheek
and he did not feel me,
I said that thing he always loved
and the words; they just evaporated
and he did not hear me,
And the saccharine scent of my perfume
that reminded him of butterflies
just fell into the void
and he did not smell me,
And he didn’t press upon
the worry of my brow
with the softness of his lips;
He did not taste me,

And then I knew
that I was asleep,

And then I cried
no tears.

Happy Place

In my happy place
is where you’ll find
the detritus of my soul
my mind
has ruptured
and its capillaries pour
– with every ebb –
waves of life into the cyber void
and snag
– with every flow –
the single threads
that once wove my soul
into the fabric of this time
and there you’ll find
not a person
but a shadow
a whisper from behind the screen
unstitched
unhinged
unseen
the remnants of a being
tightrope walking
this way
that way
unbalanced
yet perfectly
formed
inside this tangled web
in this expanse
of ink as flesh
and pixelated sinews
stretched
beyond composure
barely clinging
yet still winning in
the war that none can see
the devil’s greatest trick
is the mantra
of this disease
the anchor
in this melancholy scow
a vessel that is empty yet
somehow
so full of
bitter truths
and weighed down
with lies that lie untold
secrets will unfold
if the question’s ever broached
until then I’m all alone
in my happy place
because no-one
ever knows
just how to
ask
just how to take a
quick
yet monumental
peek
behind the mask.