If I were lain amongst a golden field
Would I move?
Do I retain the capability of life?
Or is just being more important?
I shut out all that is not myself
And should another seep in
A fire starts in my brain
To burn up their influence
And return I.
An I for an I.
I cannot be happy as me
I must find oblivion
For an identity.
Sometimes at night,
I wonder if the whole universe is
Lying next to me
And I just don’t know it.
Reaching out to touch the fading glass
Of memories that have wandered past,
I see myself reflected back but
It is not me. Not who I thought I was.
I see the faces and I hear the noise
But it is all distant. A hum of
Melancholy permeates through as I
Pick out the worst of days.
When I was not me but another,
Swapped with the person looking in.
If you have ever looked at my blog you will have seen that I post an awful lot of poetry. Which is fine, but I actually write more prose!! So, Monday next week I will be posting extracts from my newly written book Don’t Cry, Baby! Stay tuned to hear more!
Any and all feedback is always welcome and I hope you enjoy my work.
L x
A taste of peace caresses the air,
A warm necessity tenderly loving the naked.
A terror had passed and like a wave had disappeared
Into the sea of ambivalence .
Some one is crying ,
Somewhere.
Out in the world, a wet face begs the skies for answers,
Only a cloud can whisper gentle silence.
The world has breathed in deeply
And let it out in a sweet plea.
No more.
No more threat of future times.
No more innocence tainted.
Love and hope stings the sunset
As the sun cries with us.
Great streams flash yellow and pink
Colouring the blood with gold
It is very easy to forget the world is there
When there is just you and the smell of hot stone.
A peaceful hum of industrial fans.
The comfort of knowing you’re not alone,
But the silent peace of having your own.
A cooler breeze now caresses the skin,
That the sun tasted too feverishly,
Leaving marks more visible than lovers.
The final belonging,
The knowing your home.
Breeze tickling hairs tickling face.
The most familiar music
dances intricately into an evening.
More remedy than cough syrup,
More peaceful than a calamity mind
had expected or deserves
But the peace is tasted, smelt and founded.
And so I remain.
Murmurs through dusty glass.
Certainty fading amongst
the lesser coloured chairs.
The heat eeks out sweat.
A solitary bead drips down
an aching thigh.
The cool of a room.
Quiet.
Empty.
Singular.
It’ll come to me,
In a haze of wine
And stumbled sorries.
It’ll come when the after
has given up it’s fight,
And a hum of necessity
Beats on into the night.
This is a tangled forest.
Dark water falls down,
Yet somewhere there is beauty,
And it holds my hand.
This is a danger forest,
A do not enter.
But stars shine out great comfort,
Between pricking thorns.
I must find a get out path,
To stop the poison,
That breathes in the living air,
Sweeter than honey.
Heaviness upon my chest,
And between my thighs
Holds me, the midnight silence
Beckons me to stay.
I’d never seen snow dance.
Like a frozen ocean, crashing waves on the pavement,
But gently floating as if taken up to the sky.
Swirling gently as a flowing dress,
A dream come out to play,
Whistling gently at the glass,
As we drift sleepily away.
Lily Portman 