26 January, 2007 at 10:42 (Uncategorized) (, , , )

I am surrounded by women who hide things,
Women who closet a gift in a pocket, quite secretly.
A book hidden in plain sight,
An owl secreted in a pocket,
And then pointed out, in time for a facial expression,
To be seen, savoured, remembered.
I am surrounded by women who hide things,
Who pepper walls with their presence,
Most quietly.
Women who cause smiles, that I never could.
Quietly romantic, open, sweetly drunk in,
An issue of the Modern Grocer,
Lies open on the table, and a smile is seen.
In a pocket, long after it was placed there,
Fingers feel an unexpected stone,
And, he smiles,
In a way that is quite unknown to me.
I wonder if I could become,
One of those women,
If I could make someone smile like that.
Perhaps though, I am doomed to be,
An obvious woman, oblivious to,
The hidden smiles of sweetest secrecy.

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In The Woods

24 January, 2007 at 22:06 (Uncategorized) (, , , )

Faith had never really liked the woods. When Jim had finally taken her hands that day and spoken deep into her eyes, the way she had always wanted him to and he’d said that of course they would go to the woods and she hadn’t minded because they were walking together and he had taken her hands and, when it got cold, as it was wont to do in the woods he’d given her his coat to wear.
Faith was walking on air. Every so often Jim would allow his thick fingers to brush against her and he’d squeeze her hand. The first obstacle was one of sound. Cutting across the path was an eerie whining and Faith was frightened. It sounded nothing so much like she imagined ghosts would sound and she paused in the path, Jim continued.

“Oh come on Faith, it’s just a fox.”

Faith considered this, she’d never heard a fox sound like that, she’d heard them barking a few times when she walked in the fields of an evening but this wailing, moaning, whine of an almost human nature sounded nothing like that.

“You trust me don’t you?” asked Jim and, when she nodded, a little hesitantly, looking into the pools of his bright blue eyes for confirmation, he swept her into his arms and carried her beyond the eerie noise.
He didn’t put her down though she could tell she was getting heavy for his arms.

“Careful,” she said. “You’ll drop me!”
“No I won’t.” he snapped, irritated.

She became silent after that and comforted herself by snuggling into the warmth emanating beneath his shirt. The woods were dark, but the path was solid and Jim’s breathing became gradually more laboured as he struggled with her until she finally said,
“Look, why don’t you put me down?”
Jim looked around.
“Yeah I suppose here would do.” he said.
He swung Faith down and looked at her, those piercing blue eyes gazed into hers and for a moment she thought he would kiss her. Then he stepped away from her and looked up at the trees. Something looked down from the trees and Jim stepped off the path.
It swoooped down from the trees.
It was black and had no feathers though it flew silently towards Faith. It was black and rotting, it was gelatinous and dripped as it flew and where it dripped arouse smoke for what it touched could not bear it.
Faith heard Jim, a little ways off the path, make a movement as if he was reaching out to it, she saw the not-wing, dripping and foetid and black reach towards him and heard his shriek of fear and the sounds of his shoes runnning, squelching through the damp undergrowth and she could not move.
It came closer, it had no eyes, nor mouth, nor any sort of feature but something akin to a head pushed from it’s main mass, now hanging, flapping slowly above the forest floor.

Faith heard Jim shouting in the distance but the words meant nothing to her as the creature enveloped her in it”s gelatinous, warm embrace. She had time for one last breath full of the hot scent of meat left out too long covered over in sweetest horse manure before her mouth was sealed by the gooey taste of that smell. She could feel it, black and covering her. Rotting and foetid and pulling her deep within itself. She felt herself surrounded and the sensation of movement, of falling far within that black sweet-sickening place. Around her she could feel the heat rising and added to the foetor was the stench of smoke, of fields burning in the autumn. And then, It was gone, she could not have said how she knew for she was covered and dripping and the blackness surrounded her. But she looked up to discover that it covered her like a second skin, gelatinous and oozing over her and it covered the part of the wood that she was in as well. She looked up and saw that It had left her in a round and smoking hole, the sides of which were sloppy with the remains of itself.

The sky above was as black as It had ever been and did not fill her with hope. As she began to cry from the sheer hopelessness of it all she felt a stinging, burning sensation run down her cheeks, the black slime began to react with the tears. Began to burn into her face like acid. She raised her hands and scrubbed furiously at herself rubbing off the slime where she could and wiping her hands down her dress. Finally the stinging stopped and she could feel the sore wounds covering her cheeks.

She pushed at the earth surrounding her, her hands slipped and slid over the loose soil beneath but finally she could feel them gripping at the rock within. Hand over hand she pulled herself through the mud and slime. Hand over hand she dragged her body up from the hole in the woodland floor. Hand over hand until she felt the grasses scratch against her ruined face and pulled herself, panting, from the hole.

She lay there, at the edge of the hole, looking up at the night sky for some time. Her dress was spoiled by slime, her face by the burn marks that followed her tears down her cheeks. She sat up and looked around the wood somewhat helplessly, lost in the dark, unable to even see the path that she had taken to get in.
Nevertheless she set off into the dark, because there just wasn’t any other way to go.

Eventually, she came to a sort of glade, peering into the dark she made out the figure of a…man? He sat on his horse and gravely watched her as she approached. She couldn’t quite make out his shape as he looked down at her, his eyes seemed to glow somehow from within. She couldn’t quite make out if they were brown…or yellow…or red…He turned his muzzle…his face…he seemed to shift in the low light and then he slid from his horse and she saw that it was simply a large grey rock that he had been sitting on.

“You’re lost.” he stated.
“No I’m not. I’m just walking, thats all.”
He looked at her.
She looked back, defiant despite her covering of black poison.
“I’ll show you the way back.”
He held out his hand.
She raised her chin, and, to her surprise, took his hand.
“Its this way.”

And her curious guide, his shape tall, but not too tall, led her through the woods right to the outskirts. She tried to make him out in the dimness, his hair was long, she thought, and his eyes, they seemed to retain their glow. When they reached the edge of the woods he pointed her way back.
“Over there.”
She nodded to him. “Thanks.”
He nodded back and his eyes seemed to smile, she thought. Then she headed off over the grass her eyes firmly on the way ahead.

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23 January, 2007 at 22:50 (Uncategorized) ()

Who are you to make me write this way?
Who are you to dissolve me with a look
And have me write it down?
Where did you spring from and what made me,
Suddenly look at you and start painting?
Where do the muses come from
and why do they stay or go?

And still I’m writing.
And still I’m painting.

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That Isn’t It At All

22 January, 2007 at 15:23 (Uncategorized) (, , )

No, not what I meant at all,
Not what any of us meant at all,
J. Alfred would agree with me I’m sure.
That beneath a streetlight I might see,
Dashing off behind the sacks of rubbish,
A fox, who had come into the city at night.
That is not quite what I meant at all,
I can see that Alfred is paddling now.
That, behind a dry stone wall I once,
Changed tampons with little privacy,
And saw, cubs watched over by there mother,
She nipped them, roughly, a little wild,
That is not quite it at all.
Oh the difficulty in expressing,
All that I have felt since seeing these things,
In subtle words.
I should be silent, learn that I am listened to,
Much better without the words that tumble,
Like an ever-flowing river,
From my lips.

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11 January, 2007 at 23:26 (Uncategorized) (, , , )

(23:18:44) Me: Descending the stairs was deliberate,
(23:18:54) Me: On my part, at least,
(23:19:02) Me: I could have gone straight down,
(23:19:11) Me: But it was too good an opportunity to miss.
(23:19:19) Me: The look on your face, as you watched her,
(23:19:25) Me: Walk downstairs.

(23:19:40) Other: And what did you think?

(23:20:41) Me: I thought,
(23:20:49) Me: that I had seen that look before,
(23:21:07) Me: From other eyes,
(23:21:19) Me: It could be called commonplace,
(23:21:54) Me: By a man with no conception, of the enormity of what he felt,
(23:22:01) Me: Or what she felt,
(23:22:21) Me: I wonder, if I imagined her eyes would mirror your own,
(23:22:30) Me: As you looked at each other,
(23:22:34) Me: I doubt that I did.

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Love Or Nothing Like It

10 January, 2007 at 21:37 (Uncategorized) (, , )

relaxing in my chair I look at you,
And simply feel,
All that I have felt all day,

Her hair unbound around her shoulders,
A warm glow within me,
And starlight expands from every cell,
Every moment of my being,
Has come to this inevitable point,
Has taken me to the brink,

relaxing in his chair he looks at her,
And simply feels,
All that he has felt all day,

Your mouth smiling at my jokes,
A tingle along my fingertip-toed skin,
And a shivering runs from outside in,
Until every part of my body,
Has come to this inevitable point,
Has pulled my onwards,

relaxing in her chair she looks at us,
And simply feels,
All that she has felt all day.

It lasts from the moment of her smile,
Until her eyes close in sleep,
And we are there,
Beyond her brink,
Warmed all the way from within, inevitably.

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3 January, 2007 at 17:13 (Uncategorized) (, , , )

“You’re very desirable”
Am I? With the rain ruining my hair,
With my mascara running round my eyes,
“You’re very desirable”
Am I? With my mouth that doesn’t know when to stop,
With my constant talking, thinking, dreaming,
But you still said it,
Standing in the lamplight,
Was it raining? It should have been,
My feet were bare,
It was real, no matter how it seemed,
And the language was plain,
No mistakes.
let our desire remain.

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My Rusty Knight

31 December, 2006 at 13:42 (Uncategorized) (, , , )

A rusty knight offers me all his gallantry,
If I would just reach out and take it.
A lady writes of shining lights,
And I took your hand eagerly.
I have often wondered what it would be like,
To have a knight in shining armour,
Wearing my favours into battle,
My rusty knight smiles at me,
I know that my smile is his favour,
Is that enough?
A lady may dream of her light,
I am forced to wonder, camp-follower that I am,
What it would be like,
I suspect,
Were you to turn that shine to face me,
I would, on reflection,
Feel more at home with rust.

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Just Once

17 December, 2006 at 15:04 (Uncategorized) ()

I knew when you told me that there was something big,
I knew when you mentioned it that there was something,
That, like all things,
Would stop any dream from coming through.
Just once I would like to say to you,
And then do it.

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Take a look. I’m right here.

15 December, 2006 at 19:30 (Uncategorized) (, )

Do you think that I’m blind?
Or are you just self-obsessed?
(All the best people are, I am myself, you know,)
What am I supposed to see?
A reflection? An evolution?
Some sort of solution?
Is that what this is? Supposedly.
Don’t look to him for that.
Don’t, please, don’t look to her for that.
And me?
I don’t have some complex,
That leads me to a crucifix,
Has me looking down.
My father never forgave me,
But equally I haven’t drowned,
And nor will you.
(Did you really suppose I was blind?)

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