Category Archives: Aren’t words curious?

Doors

Doors

My life seems full of doors:

some open, what’s beyond them

done, wanting me to stay;

some ajar, tempting, though I

know behind some lies mischief;

some are firmly closed, locked and

loaded with possibilities and dread,

leaking strange scents

 

These I sometimes attempt to open:

try all those odd spare keys, get my

screwdriver out, though I

draw the line at jemmies,

hammers or hatchets, since I would

rather be locked out than

force a door I wished I had

never opened.

 

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Juliet’s Balcony

Coming through London

I pass those half a

million pound flats with their

Juliet balconies so

beloved of architects

crammed with suitcases,

laundry, bicycles, kids’ toys,

unopened (unopenable) boxes,

rows of ironed shirts

awaiting another

ironed day,

garden furniture with no

prospect of a garden, indeed

no room for a

Juliet to shriek her love

lost in the roar of

London’s traffic from this

ruinously expensive but

well-placed favela.

Early Music VIII: Staves

Allemande La Verneüil (François Couperin, Dix-huitième Ordre)

 

Falls can be vertiginous and

I can feel her fall through the

bars of your music

her hands grasping at

quavers and minims

unsure how far she will

fall but somehow

keeping her proud head up

despite the battering of the

staves.

Unseen Gods

The bird seems so urgent

as though it carried

some secret message from

one unseen God to another.

Strangers Eyes

I held both my children

fresh from their mother

strangers eyes

searching mine for

answers I have never

quite worked out.

Cloud-Arks

I want to board those

strange dark shapes of the horizon

those cloud-arks

fully-freighted and

already shipping out south on a

freshening breeze

bearing me

wherever they please.

Spring/Summer

The daffodils are blown, the

tulips past their best, the

blossom snows in

sudden squalls as

leaves unfurl and

Spring’s mayhem

slowly gives way to

Summer’s drab somnolence.

Candle Break

By candle-light you look like a

mediaeval Madonna, full of

thought, contemplation, perhaps a

little mourning for

what once was.

 

But am I allowed to make such a

comparison in a world full of

thought police, deciding exactly

which words I can safely use to

hymn my love?

Berlin Bed

The bed was such a world once: of

sweat and semen and the

wonderful effusions of

womanhood; of strain and stains;

contortions and cramps;

saliva and stamina;

sticky bodies entwined in

sated exhaustion.

 

But now the moonlit room

sits still: no moans or

groans of pleasure; no

pillow-muffled screams;

just the sullen

shriek of silence, the

Berlin Wall of blunt knees and

sharp elbows.

Hopscotch

Hopscotch

Either nature likes sending

complicated equations to

tease our cerebral cortex or

it has a bizarre notion of

how to play

hopscotch.

Mam Rants And Reviews

where the wild things be

Turning the Lights Off

Random musings inside my head no matter how hard I try to shut the damn lights off

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Writing, extracts, pleas to buy my books, the odd essay.

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Poetry, History, Mythology

The Cat's Write

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New content every Sunday

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My Colorful Life as a Bisexual Minx…real life tales with the man I love, and our fun-filled shared playmates…and all things about being the woman that finally discovered how to be ME and what LIVING LIFE is all about <3

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