January 2011
22 posts
Our Ill-Fitting Humours
our ill-fitting humours
part one.
it was the boy, holding his rawboned frame,
the
boy whose face alights a bawdy hue
of garnet,
touching with the Prussian blue
silk shirt he couldn’t fill.
perhaps a man - though still a boyish grace
(still - the snow that fell about his face assembled
like some antique lace
a tea and honey
pretty face
a delicately
balanced race)
he never...
Avoiding the Matter / Remembering Lights
1. Avoiding the Matter
Our eyes // flitting around the fixed line of contention; The underground train broke down again, today.
2. Death in the Afternoon
Linen / flesh - nostalgic scent infused; he stands - peripherally soft. Perfumed hips swing back — magnolia lips impart A binding sough.
Sian S. Rathore
December 2010
21 posts
how the other half lived: Christmas Came (though I... →
Beautiful. Just beautiful. Just pretty, just traditional, just written in the genre of “heartbreakingly gorgeous”.
howtheotherhalflived:
Christmas Came Christmas came, though I bid it not. I fated myself to a solitary day without You; perhaps I would be sitting spare; under a Christmas tree / neoteric - grief onto a piece Of card Christmas came; though I bid it
not.
Christmas...
Now That We Are Six
They love to watch you suffer Those pretty things who turn out to be Not so pretty But it’s too late. They love to shout you down, those who Remember pounding kicks into their side The names And swore, when spitting out blood and teeth: “I’ll never let this happen again!” They love to watch you suffer, Those strange things with strangely enlarged deltoids Monsters looming over you A...
On Her Last Exorcism
Her skin rising up against the humid Voice, its oppressive timbre humming low above her bed Its shallow, oaky chalumeau Quivers the air between her Body and the sunken sky, Makes droplets on the walls that dribble down the flock Wet wallpaper curls up at the edges Her fervour stirs – I see her Silken, fluent Nocturnal flow – stop Dead A twitch, and now a Frightened whimper. If I...
Father
Ay, there’s the rub: at ten, or even younger,
with my writing hands I mapped you out
like Helen Keller.
My first words.
Fish would have no word for water
(nor do the drowned)
and I,
I had no words for
the monstrous selfishness of the poet,
or of the father;
the sins of the father are vested on the child
so what did we do
to deserve this?
He smokes
another cigarette and stubs it out
in the...
X(Globes)
i have been spinning globes
all night; counting the days
under the ash, calculating, adding,
spinning globes under this foreign sky.
we are
a Baby Sister handspan from home; and in
this pink stained world
there are mountains yet unclimbed and seas yet uncharted
and faraway islands yet unfound;
Swiss Family
Robinson;
“those lost...
For Our Sins
Of brilliance The inexplicable disease Shimmering scars Rotten sovereignty Let them know, as they do Abandon us They were merely Mothers. They were Just Wives, and Husbands, accidental Children. We did not need them. Of decadence The direful grace Censurable sex-tapes Rat-poisoned morphine pills as purple, As purple as the colour Of miscreant coalescence. Let them do, as they...
Idyll no. 23, or, How I Met A Girl Who Was Not...
I stood at the bus stop The snow from yesterday was now ice I blame that on you, too. “The air is so bitter” I thought “That it’s like a heavy, cyanide fog” And popped that into my notebook, smugly Propping my Moleskine up against the frosted glass. (Obviously it’s a Moleskine I don’t know if you’d noticed, but I’m Sort of a poet) She stopped, across the road Just my luck. I bet she’s...
Echo Singing
He cries to the echo
Echo replies
O poor boy
I am here I have always been here
waiting for the growl of your gutturals
to prowl through my gutter
& spread me thin against the brick
& sing me
I am here
my ear hanging from your...
In the quiet rain
A beaten morning
rattle on concrete & pine
& the swell of 11am light
plays over
cascade of brunette
Where dreams linger
or gently dissipate
Where birdcalls
fall on unhearing
or undesiring ears
Minutes advance
w/ out seeming to pass
Hours pass
as quiet as the rain
on the white wooden sill
Every...
Sea stone
Sudden weather
wind blast
shrill shards of temperature
& me on a rock
by the rusting pier
on the seafront
White crests
ponderously advance through the brine
to eventually
burst in
an effortless spray
below
The final wind
...
Take Me With You
Take Me With You
The call centre was located on an industrial estate under a vertex of flight paths. Low-flying planes carved up the sky overhead.
He waited in the lobby with several white and Asian guys. Finally Anderson was called up to a curtained-off interview room where there was a recruitment consultant plus Lisa Duke. Lisa wore a tight business suit and a predatory...
I'd Rather Stay Home, And Watch The Television,...
Describe something as “Kafka-esque” if it makes you feel better It won’t stop me quoting Eliot We both ought to be ashamed because we Needn’t pretend that our tamer (better) youths were anything less than Musicals and show-songs. Hours poring over Loy; he makes his flowery exit and “I’d do anything, for you, dear,...
A Drug Pollutes our Clement Sea
You will turn on me with your exalted, fool’s face and you will say “Please can we talk?” You, the undiscovered country; the unknowable land (long journeys make me panic) and (I think it’s got something to do with my claustrophobia, you know) it wouldn’t have taken all day (something about not being able to escape if I need to) I would have found you eventually (and I shall continue on this...
I Kiss Differently To You
“So what are you doing with me, then?” I asked No introduction to My bitter spite the salvo was comfort the attacks made sense and I lay myself down I wanted to be more like you. If you were to rage around me, if you made it made it sick if you felt it, if you felt you were the hurricane (and I ended up with nothing left nothing to show for my survival but hair your fingers once ran...
Brutality
Eyes closed That’s how it had to be The last time we kissed You wouldn’t want to see The possession The claiming For its Dry lips – a tiny shudder the gavotte to all of those carefully-chosen songs we choreographed this love Were criminal For its Barely touching tongues The realism The...
My Rules
The exception to all rules – most careful – mine. I saw your ribcage Skeleton My mother worried I wanted you Cooked blue. You had an aftertaste of blood. We drank straight from the bottle.
Edward A. Elridge
Skeletons
You broke my rules I saw the building blocks – your spine – I saw the jutting Bones – the hips - each block a pillar; stickle bricks and every square constructed the beauty. the beauty you are. I’d rather cook you blue I’d rather taste you under-cooked I’d rather people looked Disgusted at something Which to me seems quite normal. Skeletons; us
You had an after-taste Of Blood.
...
