If this was my last poem…

If this was my last poem, I should suffer immeasurably. I'd wake late in the day- there'd be nothing in the early light of collective awakening to record in cursive letters. I'd eventually lose my sight for irony and ecstasy in the mundane, then life would be perfectly uninteresting. The ream of used printer paper recycled for blotted...

Erasure poetry: Stranded

Here's my second attempt at Erasure Poetry which is a type of Found Poetry. My first attempt was just an abridgement of the text! I have used the text from 'The Voyage Out', the first novel by Virginia Woolf from erasures.wavepoetry.com. It's a useful website with a number of interesting texts (and poems derived from them),...

Twin beds

I lost my dreams in between these mattresses we share. The gap is pressed against my spine and I wake up feeling disjointed. Sensory elusion, recession at this gorge-made of bed sheet- marking our sleep, where dead cells accumulate. Vertical blinds open at one slat allow light through without interference to light the room in...

Egon’s fingers

In Art that lives on expression of dead subjects his genius shines. With each hard brush stroke he claims a retinal cell and soon my vision is conquered. I see scratches of a forgotten soul emaciated and under hardwood floors, of loneliness. He has scratched in the face of a mother and her newborn. One's...

Goodbye (Part 2)

Click here for Part 1. It was a chemical reaction--an effervescent response to the idea that happiness could be distributed over the counter. Aren’t they marvellous? Marketing people-- who study humanity’s weaknesses with microscopic precision taking apart every decision made with free will knowing fully well that there was no free will to begin with,...

My Favourite Things, Chorus (to end the series)

When the dog bites, When the bee stings, When I’m feeling sad, I simply remember my favourite things, And then I don’t feel so bad.   Here's the final entry for the chorus of My Favourite Things (from The Sound of Music) to conclude the wonderful series of Subjects from Songs, for Cee's weekly Fun...

Goodbye (Part 1)

The familiar aluminium pressure cooker screaming in one, two and three whistles so that the neighbour knows that we are having rice again today for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Steamed grains or batter in one-portion moulds to accompany spicy traditions of chutneys stews lentils vegetable curries yoghurt. I remember twisting my face and knotting my...

Losing temper

I. I will always take offence, as though its taking is my right, in that one word I seek I believe to be the Rosetta Stone of your understanding of me. You should have never spoken.   II. But I don’t know what You had said for the fog to close in. It was white....

Concrete poetry: A Battle-Scarred Red Admiral

This post is inspired by a wonderful photograph for a brave little Red Admiral butterfly taken by Derrick J. Knight. Its wings are tattered but that didn't stop it from coming out to enjoy the sunshine. What a magical moment, made permanent on film! Thank you Derrick for sharing this with us. I also owe...