February 2012
13 posts
3 tags
that love song
maybe it’s just as Sylvia said and I only made you up in my head.
3 tags
haikus are awesome
bathroom thoughts are like dreams of sand and water that slip through my fingers
2 tags
Asking Too Much
One of those things which I really wish I wrote:
militarynorbs:
“I want you to tell me about every person you’ve ever been in love with. Tell me why you loved them, then tell me why they loved you. Tell me about a day in your life you didn’t think you’d live through. Tell me what the word “home” means to you And tell me in a way that I’ll know your mothers name just by the way you describe...
1 tag
The sound of silence
I could tell you what every silence means every pregnant pause every break in my sentences every moment lost
I could analyse every hesitation every shake of my head every comma, every period every un-uttered word
I could explain every downcast gaze every single sigh I could put every breath in its place If only you’d ask why.
3 tags
real
I abandoned my dreams for something real only to find that it did not fulfil
3 tags
in the city
You are the old immigrants who arrived with the ancient ships; drifted in on the wind. Now you’re living life on the ledge of a building; in the drains and gutters; in the cracks and crevices of walls and pavements. You make nests of mortar and cement, glued to the undersides of bridges, fastened on rooftops.
You used to rely on starlight, now the golden lights confuse you, the glass...
1 tag
just a girl
I am a girl, and I am entitled to skip among the fallen leaves dance in the rain sing madly walk in the falling snow til ice crystals collect in my hair run until it hurts;
walk alone under a dark sky look up at the lone bright star and wish for you
I am a girl, and I am entitled to feel this way.
2 tags
wreathed
and he sees her wreathed in flames like the devil herself slowly roiling
4 tags
web of dreams
this is the web of my dreams look at it fraying at the seams
3 tags
had
funny how it feels sad to lose something you never even had
3 tags
life in the forest
in the end, it is the green that saves her the soft whirr of wings on the wind the quiet stoicism of the trees unaging, uncomplaining stolidly bearing the scars of their years
in the forest, she forgets except to call each leaf by its name to catch the sunlight in a spider’s web and to recognise the voices of those who sing
2 tags
all the same
we are all the same animal of chance and circumstance hope and happenstance
one story, one mind one pack of lies one way to live and one way to die
2 tags
muse
I hear the words in my head and I must write them down before I forget them before I forget myself
January 2012
1 post
4 tags
to accustom/to get over
like a calf i am still trying and failing to wean myself off you
2 tags
all this talk
i wish you would stop talking to me if you have nothing to say i wish i would stop thinking things that will never see the light of day
3 tags
in the wind
when a door creaks it is a tree again young in the forest boughs sighing in the wind
4 tags
spring cleaning
rummaging through my life past and tucked away in the bottomest shelf of my cupboard I find bags of letters and cards and words from people who have meant the world old diaries (my soul inked into their yellowed bound pages) ashes from a campfire twigs for photo frames dust-caked memories and reminders that I have lived not just today but yesterday and yesterday’s yesterday and the day...
December 2011
3 posts
1 tag
he wore the sunlight like an accessory
He wore the sunlight like an accessory it was golden in his hair he glittered so gallantly sent beams of light everywhere the angles of his jaw were accentuated like shards of glass shadows around his pale face they did cast and when he parted his lips to smile a heavenly shine from his pearly whites he did bestow
—
A/N: Yeah I didn’t really intend this to come out as comically as...
1 tag
tilt
I’m off-centre again Shift me, tilt me, back Into balance
1 tag
restless
sleep must not come for the restless heart must continue to wander
October 2011
1 post
1 tag
all-nighter
i smell ash on the early morning air is it lingering combusted hydrocarbons from last night’s vehicles, or the embers of the offshore oil refineries? the world is slowly stirring to life i hear the first bird calls the hmmdrmm of vehicles intensifies the deep indigo of the sky fades into brighter, brighter blue the world is tri-coloured now all azure sky, black tree silhouettes and warm-orange...
September 2011
4 posts
1 tag
midnight rain
watching the midnight rain from my window the waving silhouettes of trees, the sky all aglow
cars careening down slick streets the wind moves the rain in sheets
turn the street lights watery the ground slippery
(suddenly, i feel alive)
2 tags
that house
I’m dreaming of a house in a land so far away and so cold. I’m dreaming of its brick walls and the fireplace we never used. The cold basement; the carpeted flooring. The homely kitchen – wooden table, wooden chairs. And the boy who used to live in it with me.
There was a garden where we would pick tomatoes off the vine, plums off the tree, basil and rosemary from the earth.
Roses in the front...
2 tags
free
Remember the time you helped her find herself, and then she packed a suitcase and flew away like a caged bird freed, never to return? And you felt nothing afterwards. And you feel nothing now. Maybe it doesn’t matter anymore, because maybe friendships had always been built on convenience, and coincidence, anyway. And maybe they were never really meant to last.
2 tags
stars
she treads dark waters under a sky salted with stars the stars are reflected back at her in the pools at her feet millions for miles
August 2011
3 posts
3 tags
black and gold
yellow lights in black night you get on the ECP and just drive and drive and drive will you end up on a runway and the next flight or will you fall off the edge of this island?
2 tags
your little could-have-beens
so maybe you did everything wrong and your children turned out so much less than you hoped they would be than they could have been
2 tags
moments
she takes the moments and draws them out
June 2011
3 posts
2 tags
green
These are the things she does to make herself feel alive:
she learns to separate green from green she wants to learn the names plant by plant she comes to know the earth every form, every vein instinctively she learns how sap must bleed like words must bleed drip by drip or in fluid gushes
2 tags
solitude #1
just me and my thoughts tonight what a disaster area of solitude
2 tags
home #1
late night on the bus the world’s black and gold and I - don’t know where I am.
May 2011
1 post
1 tag
it fell
And it fell upon the earth. And no one noticed. They went on with their daily lives, oblivious. Only she could see it. And she marvelled at it, and at how no one else seemed to see it.
2 tags
a dark place
She seeks out a dark place to watch the city from, watch it glow like jewels on a dark sea. She takes a dark road alone, within herself the wind, the stars in her hair.
April 2011
3 posts
2 tags
falling
Falling in love with someone just takes a single moment.
There is a specific moment in time. A point you cross, after which you see the person in a whole new light, after which you wonder why you never saw them that way before. A point after which there is no turning back.
…Until you fall out of love, that is.
Falling out of love with someone just takes a single moment.
2 tags
constant
He can never know it, but… she is grateful for the little moments, so ordinary, so simple so meaningless he can never know it, but she locks each and every one of those moments away drowning in romanticized sentimentality and he in turn keeps her locked in those moments
He can never know it, but… she keeps her fingers on his rhythms on the pulse of their undercurrents he can never know it, but...
2 tags
dreams and the living
She dreams of death. Dreams are not prophetic, he says, when you dream something, the opposite must come true.
Awake, she thinks of what it means to live.
—
Swaying chandeliers. High-beamed ceilings. Stone walls, stone pillars, breezeways. Brick by brick. Puddles of snow and the buds of preformed leaves – leaves of all the trees she’s only ever heard about but never seen, until now, and their...
February 2011
1 post
2 tags
painted in time #1
Drew my blinds tonight to look out at the world The warm golden squares of living room lights Patterned regularly on the canvas of the night Dusky silhouettes pass over glass panes Curtained dimensions We inhabit boxes Every one of us Strangers
The city’s home on a Sunday night.
August 2010
2 posts
6 tags
ode to an urban kingfisher
Sapphire You’re a bright jewel against the ver- Dance to the city’s beat, the eternal pulse The low hum of a machine about to reach Boiling point
Harbinger! But gloriously overlooked There is splendour for those who know The refuge of your wings; the colour of Your voice
Sing You proud, blatant Echo Your world does not sing with you: your ever-changing world But even when it grows...
3 tags
the kite
There, raise your eyes and see, that telling silhouette, captivity’s envy. Skimming across 475-nanometre plains, amidst the lambs of Heaven, Feathers cutting like fins through hot, heavy oblivion, wing-shadowed imprints on the golden orb, master of the wafts and updrafts, my Icarus, don’t melt your wings.