The moment I got a chance I went to a bar…

And found a man who was a replica of you,

Your doppelganger actually:

Your face, your hair, your physique,

And I had him make love to me,

The exact same way you had described it,

In your letters,

Even including me reaching back,

To you – I mean him – for a kiss.

It was supposed to,

Turn back the clock,

To you – it didn’t,

It was supposed to be,

The pinnacle of my life;

The most telling,

Moment in my history.

It wasn’t.

agirlclock

Poets Are A Weird Mob:

I get up before the sun,

And before the household,

So I can write poems for you,

It comes out of my fingers.

In reams.

One day when I finally meet you,

I will give them to you and,

Unless you are a poet,

You may not understand,

The significance.

You’ll hand them back,

And with a half smile,

Politely say, “That’s nice,”

And I’ll know: they were,

Too long, too childish,

Too unnecessarily tender,

Not profound & brilliant enough.

And I’ll think “nice,”

They were nice!

Is that even a word?

Do we even have it in our language?

Can you break that down for me?

Can you think of other words instead of that?

Can you elaborate at all?

And I’ll be tempted to say,

“Maybe you should take an English class,

To increase your vocabulary,”

But of course I can’t say those things because,

Then I’m being picky, arrogant,

Vitriolic & spoiling for a fight,

And I don’t want to be,

Accused of those things again,

And then you’ll try,

To have sex with me,

But the thing is,

It’s not about nice and

Certainly not about sex.

So then I’ll be alone,

Once more dreaming about,

My next one-true-love,

…Where for art thou?

asunrise

At The Round Table:

She’s not sure she thinks of herself as attractive anymore:

The daily battles had whittled her down so that there was nothing left,

Just a soul-less sack of saggy flesh and brittle bones that would make good compost,

Besides, the only thing she knew for sure about love was that it was transient,

And yet in the five years since she had vowed to never get close to another man,

She’d had three wonderful relationships – each one better than the last,

And leading her closer to the holy grail (but delusions are tricky things),

God give her strength!

girl alone

 

 

 

Where Love Goes To Die:

I didn’t know that the disease in your mind,

Would become gradually worse as we aged.

 

We were supposed to grow old together,

You were my best friend!

 

But I didn’t recognise you anymore,

I didn’t feel safe – I chose life.

 

In my heart I will always be married to you,

And only you, until the day I die.

 

35 was my lucky number:

Maybe it was time to go back,

She knew he would be there waiting for her,

But then she remembered his emotional betrayal,

She hadn’t rekindled their connection for that!

She was trying to improve her life,

Not to take a step back.

 

There are silent battles and steep hills,

But she’s spread-eagled on the ground,

With shield & weapon flung aside,

And her breath just won’t return,

Love had become her enemy,

And the summit seemed ever so far.

girl and man one by one

 

 

 

She Sleeps With The Light On…

. . . Just in case,

The night is still,

There’s not a sound,

Except the rumbling of a distant truck,

Which propels her into a memory;

It was of the time when she had her babies,

A marriage bed full of passion, youth & hope,

It was a time long before these lean times.

 

She sleeps with the light on because . . .

The phone might ring;

The Angel of Death in Her chariot,

Has swept down again, mercilessly and,

In her cruel and twisted way has,

Extracted another of her loved ones.

 

She sleeps with the light on,

So that the memory of her lost loves,

Doesn’t overwhelm her,

Because they can’t – you know – if you have the light on,

The memory of the contour’s of their bodies,

Their gentle or wild thrusts,

Their whispered indulgences,

All held at bay.

 

She sleeps with the light on,

To stop the snoring in the empty room,

The footsteps on the hallway boards,

The growling from the ceiling,

The ghosts remain invisible and can’t see you,

Or hurt you with the light on.

 

She sleeps with the light on,

So that if she wakes with a night terror,

She will instantly see her lovely things around her,

And, after some time,

Gain some comfort and soothe herself back to sleep.

 

She sleeps with the light on,

Because she doesn’t know what awaits her in the black dimension;

Dreams of babies long gone,

Lovers lost, souls removed from her life by death,

Quick as a flash and still half in slumber,

She can grab her pencil & paper,

And jot down the rhymes – such as this one – as they come to her at 3am.

umbr

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mr Wordsmith:

She liked to “rescue” the hopeless cases,

Or that was what she was told anyway,

But also, he had to have a way with words,

To read her soul, to woo her back as she was walking away,

Reminisce over the good times,

Talk to her about nothing, in particular, to relax her,

Gratefully receive her mementos of love (poetry mainly),

If all of these boxes were checked, then yes, she’d take it!

He would become the latest soon-to-be ex,

Completely worthy of her love.

man and brain

 

 

Between my fingers:

She falls:

From grace,

From sight,

From God,

From herself.

 

It’s when she sleeps,

She meets them again;

All her lost loves,

The ones she let slip between her fingers.

 

girl and sleep

Not Getting Any Younger:

This alone time;

It never lasted long,

Tick, tick, tick,

Says the clock

That’s right!

Time to inflict herself,

On another unsuspecting:

You don’t run from,

Four weddings & a marriage,

Without there being,

Some kind of atonement,

The past was catching up with her,

Karma doesn’t stay buried in the ground,

She tells herself she doesn’t need him,

(to keep him safe),

But there’s that damn ticking again,

And time doesn’t grow on trees,

You know!

time and tree

 

 

A new technique…

… that’s going to change her life,

From now on she won’t be able to remember,

The evil men, the nightmares, the monsters,

The Therapist promises;

From now on a new life full of hope & wonder.

 

She wakes up the next day,

Who is she? The memories have gone,

But so has she!

She has become a faceless being with no name.

girl - after the lobotmy, shes forgotten who she is