You may have noticed I haven’t written much for a while. Life got busy. I haven’t read much either, so there’re no microcosms updates either, sorry. But you know where the site is…and it’s still fab.
The #vss365 prompt on Twitter has really exploded…in a good way. So many great snippets to enjoy. Daily doses of goodness. I feel so chuffed to be a part of it. I also got a job: editor! The start of 2018 has been a mixed bag of great and awful. It’s April, and I’m only just beginning to feel that I have any kind of handle on 2018. By Christmas, I’m sure I’ll have the year under some sort of control.
Anyway, I ramble. Normally, I break my posts up based on poems and prose and stuff, but due to the small selection to be uploaded and a small degree of
laziness efficiency on my part, I’m lumping them all together. Hope you enjoy.
She could see his #jaw #distort around words, as if old wounds were hushing old sins. Muscles and tongue finally managed an ‘I’m okay’. Her own jaw tightened ‘til teeth popped in sockets, holding back what he didn’t want to hear. And they both withered in long shadows.
The mass of knowledge can make even the strongest weary.
#hangtenstories 417 (weary)
Playing cat’s cradle
Bullying our taut heartstrings
Running out of moves
I’ll slit a verse if needs be
Exsanguinate my poetry
I’ll bleed a ruby sorry
If needs be I will empty
Vein and capillary bed
If it means more than what I’ve said
Means more written in bright #red
Congealing between now and dead
Gall or gumption? Dubious perspective of the winners and losers.
#hangtenstories 420 (gumption)
The practise runs, under cobwebbed dustsheets, meant little now, but they still had some artistic merit, even if each #piece only portrayed the wisdom and pains of practise. How could the police see them as just victims?! They have no appreciation of the creative process
And here they buried all my love in tiny coffins, so deep my heart broke before the holes were filled; so deep my fingers broke before I could reach them; but not so deep that rage couldn’t pull me from my grave. #horrorprompt
I #spent all that time preparing, all that energy getting ready, and it made no difference. Don’t make my mistake…accept things and move on. Do not waste life analysing, wondering, questioning. You’ll only grind down your now on the unchanging headstones of the past #vss365
Lofty ideas, unrealised clutter, making attics of selfish naive dreamers.
#hangtenstories 430 (lofty)
The thing with a #hundred eyes
Never stops watching, never blinks
Yet somehow it never spies
All those things everyone thinks
You’re not the sort to ever do
Its shallow gaze can’t see through
The distraction of polished lies
Her #temper flared, leaving smoke in its wake and a grey shroud over all their bridges. He gathered up the ash, mixed them with regrets and dreams, fed them to a garden where memories bloomed…but trapped himself within forget-me-not borders.
Her tinderbox mouth ignites this fire in which we burn.
#hangtenstories 442 (tinderbox)
It must be a #relic now: location unknown. I see where it once was. Soon, the paler band of flesh will blend with the tan, and that last hint of what was will be lost. I threw it away in anger…all of it…and now I can’t bear the weight of not wearing it. #vss365
‘It’s lost its smell,’ she grumbled.
‘Ain’t the #violet; it’s yer nose. It gets overwhelmed by too much smelling. Given time, the scent always returns,’ he said carefully.
‘I’m not sure I want to smell violets again,’ she whispered, laying flowers on her lover’s grave.
Uncashed rain-checks and crashed-out loaded decks never helped…made a debtor instead. Tried to still it, kill it…a cause to pause unending spending. #time still went, got ill spent. And trite hindsight mocks…like an empty alms box #vss365
I was hungry for something, thirsting for more…so when that tempting milk and honey verse poured from his smoke and whiskey mouth like manna, in my greed, I dammed his #flow and drank down words fresh off his tongue.
Like that glass which needs a simple tool to shatter, it was the smallest thing that fractured him. He split with a thundercrack, hurling out pain like shrapnel as though to shred the world. And in the debris, he clutched her clock, #wound down and as silent as her memory
Careful what you #abjure
In your haste to unshackle
From what you feel sure
Is a complete debacle
Don’t throw the baby out
With this dirty bathwater
‘Cos you are treading doubt
And nothing’s like it ought to
Those promised greener pastures
May just be deeper waters
I knew she wore the memory of success like a #mask when she came back with nothing but her painted face and a battered suitcase.
‘You’re confusing friends and #allies,’ he offered. ‘If you hold on, waiting for a friend to pull you up from the cliff’s edge, then you’d better have one hell of a grip.’
Spring is here, lover
Thawing old walls between us
The nexus of my needs and wants resides in you.
#hangtenstories 476 (nexus)
Done drowning in your
Sleeping ocean of shadow
To break on the shore
#DimpleVerse #haiku #poetry #prompt
The salt of your kisses
As you ebbed away
Leaving me on the shore
Dreaming of drowning in your
Sleeping ocean of shadows
#DimpleVerse #cherita #vss #poetry #prompt
Swatches of grief and sore patches unfurl,
Darns in well-worn skin of tattered ends
And taut stitches over make-do mends
Fix this sewn-up woman from scraps of girl.
At the bottom stair
I do pause to stare
At the darkness there
Lingering just where
I’d turn and prepare
An affected air
That this dead affair
Is still more of care
Than a self set snare.
‘Being #mortal is a gift, sweetheart. Always think of it as a gift.’
‘I don’t know what you mean, Grandpa,’ she said with a frown, but held his thin hand tighter nonetheless.
You’ll never know her depths watching from that dry pier.
#hangtenstories 477 (pier)
Sitting, nursing this cuppa
Listening out for his key
Hands holding tight, tea’s gone cold
Hoping for what I oughta
Know by now will never be
To see you in my dark
I made candles of my eyes
And until it all went up
I watched you play with fire
Within my burning sight
‘I never took no #drug I weren’t supposed to. Never drank nor smoked…nor raised no fist in anger. So why am I here?’
The Devil sighed. Where were all the true sinners these days?! ‘Apathy doesn’t count as virtue.’
You can’t acquiesce, then later complain no one ever listened.
#hangtenstories 478 (acquiesce)
‘The #past is done; why keep going back?’
She moved away, picking up her phone and tucking legs up on the sofa: bare toes a barricade, screen glow a camouflage.
His answer suffocated under notification beeps: it’s where we’re still together.
Make a sailboat of these dreams to find safe harbour.
#hangtenstories 480 (sailboat)
Disrupt and maim
Watching their plight
#hangtenstories 487 (disrupt)
Two holes in her gum; apologies brought under the pillow.
#hangtenstories 488 (gum)
‘I have uncovered it all. There is no #mystery left.’
‘You seem disappointed, old man.’
‘I thought it would satisfy me…but I’m poorer for it.’
‘How can knowing not make you rich?’
‘Because in my greed to know, I never stopped to understand.’
It seemed so small a thing
They all laughed when I cried
Mirth-made blinkers hid how
The blade slipped deftly in
No one heard me gasping
As it slashed deep inside
We’re all having fun now!
Not bleeding out within
See! The #puncture’s so small
There’s no harm done at all
#turn down those lamps of yours and let the edge of day soften on the night pouring in.
Too familiar, this ballad of cold sheets and empty arms.
#hangtenstories 494 (ballad)
Conniving false amity
On my naive rarity
Making love my vanity
And love your profanity
With fallout finality
Left a weeping cavity
And shared culpability
In your latest fatality
#SenseWrds 383 forsaken shell uncommon
I’ll help keep you beautiful. Time will not steal your looks nor the firmness of your skin. Your lips will stay as inviting as they are now. This is what you pray for at your vanity, making rituals of your make-up. The embalming fluid may hurt a little at first.
These mellowed landscapes
At the elements’ mercy
Trust in erosion
#DimpleVerse #micropoetry #PoetryMonth #vss #poetry #prompt #tenwords #haiku
‘What’s the #catch?’
‘None, sir. The money’s yours. A bequeathment.’
‘Nah! Got to be bait or something to make a fool out of me. I know what you’re like.’
‘Yeah, thought so! I ain’t daft.’
‘Oh, it appears there is a trap, sir, but it’s not set where you think.’
Stop picking at the past
Its bones are clean
Stop cherry-picking the now
Sliced venting spleen
Stop slimming the future
On sick cuisine
Doubt made a fine telescope, keeping fear always in view.
#hangtenstories 496 (telescope)
Don’t know why I #disrupt
All our quiet moments
But am sharply abrupt
When you dislike silence
Cutting off and slicing away
Don’t know why I corrode
Why I did that ‘til just
Goodbyes and tears flowed
Leaving nothing but rust
And choking on what I can’t say