Silver Reflections

Vanessa leans forward towards the silver

reflection of curls

drifting in front of her left eye

to examine the individual strands

a distraction

from examining closer

closer examining her

herself

of asking questions about what her hair portrays

its coffee cocoa colouration

of what it articulates to the world

Anna leans forward towards the silver

reflection of her eyelash

stroking her finger along its texture

its flaking specks of black which fall

mascara

a distraction

from examining closer

closer examining her

herself

of asking questions about what her eyes portray

their coffee cocoa irises

of what it visualises to the world

Rebecca leans forward towards the silver

reflection of freckles

which lay over her nose

to examine the constellations they map

a distraction

from examining closer

closer examining her

herself

of asking questions about what her skin portrays

its coffee cocoa complexion

of what it speaks to the world

You lean forward towards the silver

reflection of your mouth

running your hand among the line it forms

a distraction

from examining closer

closer examining you

yourself

of asking questions about what your mouth portrays

to the world, visually

orally

of what it speaks to the world

Holiday blue

Barked brown fingers skim tips

Across golden waves

Dripping buttery

Onto green

Blue floats fluffy

Lillo’s white soft

 unmated

cigarette whips streak

free across the pitch

where criss-crossed

travellers escape gravity

momentarily

before toes dotted violet drown themselves.

Gerititish

I lost my first language at three years old.

There’s a Technicolor video with me, gabbling in German. Bald head buzzing with cultures colliding into fireworks and ferocious first words.

I lost my own accent at nine.

I practised my vowels so that the Irish “ gypsy scum” didn’t float through the air. Till my constants became consistent with those around me, and teachers praised my elocution . Like a sponge I glugged it up, leaking the lilt out in drizzles.

The rest of my life, I will tread on words as they sink to my chest. My breath pushing words through. Broken and bruised. Till the words buzz on my tongue, like curry I can never learn to love despite my Indian name – chosen to be international.

And I will swallow them. Even if it burns.

It’s Monday the 1st of August 2016, at 10:22 am.

It feels like a Wednesday today.

Like the worst is over,

The blinding end is sighted. Telescoped.

It feels like March.

Like the snowdrops peer their heads,

Suck up the cold and exhale. Fragranced.

It feels like 4’oclock in the afternoon.

With the working day,

Shuddering to a stop.

Like a retro robot who’s cogs have stopped churning, and falls soft to sleep.

Like a car that struggles to take off in the wrong gear, but does it anyway.

Like the sugar dregs at the end of a cup of tea.

It feels like I’m on top of a hill, and I can run

All the way down. Coat flapping, boots slapping

Wind lifting me up.

Pray I don’t trip.

The Calling

What is calling when my lids rest and the brain rambles down paths
it is not the birds twitter tweets
nor the dog's grumblings
or the owl's hoot hoot

it is Words.

Words sieve through my brain echoing my day
echoing the unfilled space of desire.

Calling me it sets the future in motion
as lines
             on a map are drawn
as letters
              on a page are written
as reactions grasp
                            within my brain

Call me.
Call me into dreams                         Call me into fantasy                   Call me to make reality
You ask me
what is calling?
it is Words
                 of all shapes                    and colours

of all la langue                                and fonts

They bubble and flick across my gaze of sleep

squeezing t h r o u g h the g  a  p  s in my brain

to produce more than Words

thoughts

              sentences

                             worlds

-------------------------------lines-

Words settle and d

                             r

                               i

                                 f

                                   t                     away

re-group reunite fade drift

they rest dormant underneath the To-Do Lists:

1. Dinner

2. Books

3. Computer

but as my eyes fall and my body numb

the Words call me.

Demand attention as the bat demands the night

they take flight to feast on the unnoticed events of the day

Words fillup the space of        sleep

to cause tired eyes, scribbled pen undeciferable words

nonsense yet maybe no

forgotten           lost           faded

a seed to be cracked crushed made anew

in the rays of half light

in the wake of day

Sonshine

The Sun Sun Sun Son Son
glitters around
in spaces of emptiness
Son leaving lines of new beginnings
through the tree tops
through this heart line
until the Son shines
shining down onto the Sun.

Exposed

Cracked blue bowl leaking my salty saviour

Blushing hot in this blue light that plays along my wrist

Daisies dancing along the rim of the eyeless pit

Sand flavoured soup wafts flesh in coils

Hugging my brain. Smoothing the cold crinkled mass.

Although ad hockery poured in china crockery

I am comforted by my psychedelic sensations of

A cold cottage on a dead hill, alone.

Exposed.

To the nerve of Mother Nature who spouts consistent liquid sunshine

So I lift the chalice to my lips and gulp downcast eyes and creased foreheads

Drizzling it down my bare throat, tugging at the skin

Pulling it down easily, like the cracked walls of Rome.

Leaving me utterly

Exposed.

I Know

I know

Look me through the eye,

What can I see?

A rain drop scattering puddles

Boots smashing mud

Splattered faces crying,

With love.

Eyes look past you,

What do you know?

Tears taste like chips

On a wet windy beach.

Waves dancing onto rocks

Ignoring fog.

You look right through me,

Am I even real?

Red scuffed shoes,

Seared to my feet

Scolding I should have known

About the heat.

Sunlight

Hello everyone, in light of yesterday (International Happiness Day) here is a little poem that I wrote. Enjoy!

Sunlight
Sun glitters on my eyes
those blinding specks of white
that spin and block my sight
Are those those moments that people smile at?
Are those those moments where giggles surface?
Lids shut
I prefer the multicolour
of closed eyes
these are those moments of smiles warming my skin
bringing the heart out
gently
gentler

The Momentary Snow

The momentary snow.

It clings to the naked trees

Turning, spinning, laughing,

He grows with the cold,

His body folds, frowning.

Under the weight of the sky sea,

I catch a star on the lash of my eye,

But when the sun breaks from a cloud,

The snow sinks into the ground.

The people continue on their way.

With nowhere, really, to go. 

Forest Fires

Forest Fires

The sun bites,

Its juices screaming.

Brushing heights

The mountains teaming.

Painted trees,

Their leaves burning Red.

We can’t see

The souls of the dead.

Marching slow.

They’re filled with regret.

I will go.

You seem to forget.

All will die a sudden death.