love

atmosphere

 

between the top of clouds and

the lid of the sky

sunlight breathes shallow and sits

in thin air

her warm fingers edged with

cold wind

the weight of majestic rays

higher than mountains, above fields

alone, over hidden cities of busy lives,

the mess and rush of love and hate, real life

up here

not really anywhere,

significant

temporary

ripped only by metal wings or feathered flight

mostly, a lonely nowhere

except

hovering in that secret blue place

I ache and stretch tendrils of tenderness,

could I reach?

everywhere

my yearning

feels like atmosphere

 

 

 

The inspiration for this came in part from a poem by Frank Hubeny which conjured the idea of the sun above the clouds having its own little game up there.

I sat on this for a month because I was planning to submit it to a journal callout for ‘immigrant poems’ — it speaks to my experience as an expat/person out of place/away from home. But then I got busy and missed the deadline, oops. 

Photo: Idella Maeland on Unsplash

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dreamwindow

Photo: https://unsplash.com/@joelmwakasege

 

dreamt I fell in love

it was so simple

like a small clear window

didn’t have to search for it

didn’t have to try

 

your clean, sudden lines

eyes smiling in delight

you said

it’s us now, forever

for however long that lasts

I laughed, and said

you know

I used to find you annoying

with your past life, past wives…

 

our movie showed a map

we travelled across Tanzania

on the coca-cola croc train

stopping here and there

to refill our canteen

 

dreamt I fell in love

it was so simple

looked down and it was there

like a small clear window

certainty at last

a strip of perfect light

 

dreamt I fell in love

oh, come back night

 

I played around with trying to turn this into a sonnet but it didn’t work so well. Maybe it’s a ‘deconstructed sonnet’.

Photo: https://unsplash.com/@joelmwakasege

Added to dVerse open link night 

In the middle of love

 

in the middle of love

in the middle of life

in the middle of London

what am I to do?

I could do a fuck-lot worse

than being

stuck

in

the middle

with you

 

We are in London for a dear friend’s wedding … Prompt:  Because we’re halfway through NaPoWriMo/GloPoWriMo today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem that reflects on the nature of being in the middle of something. The poem could be about being on a journey and stopping for a break, or the gap between something half-done and all-done. 

 

Like a Lover

Image: John Towner https://unsplash.com/@heytowner

 

Sometimes he treats me
like a lover
the drape of coat on my shoulder
finishing touch, perfect object
of affection

the night where
we fell
no, not like that, but still

I wonder if it
could have all gone to hell

the patched-up,
still-brilliant tooth smile
of shared belonging

our concurrent ways
hurtling through space

time spent, time wasted
so wasted…
the wax and wane of
sun, moon, stars
and
guitars

My sometimes brother
my almost lover
we are

like sibling planets
whose
orbits align

Heartlines

Photo: Peter John Maridable via https://unsplash.com/photos/tRJtLQ8p1fU

Photo: Peter John Maridable via https://unsplash.com/photos/tRJtLQ8p1fU

 

The heartlines that stretch

like yarn

like vapour trails

like ink from your pen

winging its way

in a letter you sent

like a lit road at night

seen from the sky

that jewelled line of bright

beaded with light

like blood from a scratch

or a virtual smile

from you to me

across the miles

 

This poem was also published on The Drabble on 29 October 2016. 🙂

Rain

Roses in Zurich

Last time it rained like this

Rain, rain, rain

It was spring? autumn? In…

my share house in Newtown

the same rain, same, same

Some days it would stop

Then it’d start up

again, again, again

Uni textbooks damp and curling

lank hanks of velvet curtain

on my sliding bedroom door

over my barred window, hiding

the pane, pane, pane

Blocking out my hangovers, oh

the pain, the pain, the bane

Of my existence.

A lover called my room “the pit”

But I had a red rose

outside on the covered balcony

A little flame, flame, flame

One night another suitor

Left a small china dog on my doorstep

Racked returning from the pub–

a tender campaign, campaign, campaign.

I’d go to my beautiful friend’s house

Try to ease her sadness

with pizza, throwdowns, hairdye–

We’d laugh, tho her heart was

in twain, twain, twain.

I did my work, I felt sad and happy

I got drunk all the time.

It rained and rained and rained

Sometimes wonder how much has

changed, changed, changed