November 2011
10 posts
It Killed Me, Now It Kills You Too
Lately I have been like A newspaper shredded up into confetti All the comment and cheap scandal tossed Out the window, into Autumn. The Commas held the pieces up and Walked around the city searching every Bar that has red candle-holders and patterned walls To rewrite themselves around you. A small orchestra formed between them Attuned rustles and percussive rips The sound of their ink...
Nature Informs The Universe
The flesh where there is no bone was on my mind Flesh, I might add, distracts my defence, and it
Quietly asks to be bitten and gripped with, I can Tell by the way it moves. It feels only natural that I might notice these things about you. On your body Nothing is remembered, yet nothing forgotten I think of colour to describe your world. Green is Your legs crossed beneath the table, Orange...
IF IT'S POETRY YOU'RE AFTER
YOU’VE COME TO THE RIGHT PLACE.
I've Done Something I Am Not Yet Comfortable With
I’ve done something I’m not yet comfortable with I turned a friend into something else, not long after their Birthday. We held an embrace that I am still thinking about Whilst curious observers noted the bleeping of our phones The giddiness it started and from coffee shops How I paid attention to the posy of carnations Beheaded, on my table. What are you supposed to do when they break? ...
Maybe Byron Could Have Done You Better
Maybe Byron could have described this better than me About this body standing before me, now inquisitive With guilt in thy fame, his spirit stirred with torment Maybe he would have been felled to the floor for love of you. The poems exist, the words in perfect orders to provoke A feeling such as this one, when the body rose and spoke And brings Desire, not to answer but to listen and to...
A Letter to You - Sian S. Rathore
I didn’t fall in love with you. I simply tripped over my shoelace. Stood up seconds later with bruises on my legs and scratches on my hands, and it felt like A little God was travelling through my body and leaving from my mouth which sang your name, sometimes. I was used to closing my eyes and seeing you there, I dreamt of opening them and seeing you still, I was curious. The fall humbled...
Desires
She likes primary colours and angular, white furniture I like my house to be haunted by the ghosts of Romantics. She likes a markless laptop with aligned Desktop icons, I like my books to spill from my desk in No discernable order. She wanted to itemise the cupboard Colour co-ordinate the spices, I preferred to have them Recognisable only by scent. She likes to climb a ladder, she Will put...
I Am Still Hungover - Sian S. Rathore
You asked the receptionist if you were okay to have guests As we stood with nervous motion like rocking lifeboats Her shirt was red and boxy, your body a stiff blue suited Board I would fear to ride a wave with Unintentionally you had been the footnote to all of my Essays of criticism and culture, I cast an analyst’s eye Over the stiff peaks of your muscled landscapes, how you Slipped into...
The Blue Women - Anna Percy
Tell me about the blue women Of your acquaintance Tell me you see the waves of electric blue, Emanating from grey clothes, contorted, sectioned off head severed at the neck, held on by empty hands, Limbs folded protecting the body The acute blue body The body radiating blueness And the cause of blueness In its largeness, its smallness, its marks, The drugs, the want, the need, the surplus, Old...
