Tag Archives: death

Guilted Youth

Your third (golden) eye flashed

from somewhere near the back of the van,

amidst the jumbled bodies happily

jounced by bad roads.

We’d loved the new band we’d been to see

–Roxy Music, their first tour–

and the thrill of that unexpected sound

fizzed in us like champagne:

it must have gone to my head to remove

my timidity so, make me crawl

awkwardly across that crowded space,

the cast on my wrist spectral in streetlight.

That drunken post-pub football match

on floodlit New Brighton prom;

that outrageous tackle; sailing

slow-motion through the night sky;

my hand meeting summer-dry earth;

a clean snap and a denial

–I’m OK! I’ll go in goal!

Why did I go in goal?

Parrying shot after shot with a

rictus of pain and a swelling which,

after the long walk home,

even I couldn’t deny.

I dreaded you saying something,

I felt so gauche and full of disability but your

smile was as open as your arms:

“O Finn, you found me!”

The kiss we shared was troubled

neither by my cast nor my evident erection,

nor by your unbeautiful beauty,

nor by our pitiful youth.

The trouble was I wanted you too much and you

didn’t want to be wanted so

–not then, anyway: maybe later

when you’d lived a bit more.

But you didn’t live and I

didn’t learn.

Advertisements

O What a Blow that Phantom Gave Me

A pallid house, moon-engulfed,
corridors beget more corridors:
where are the lights? Stupid,
there are no lights
only the monstrous goboes of the
windows, latticed like prison bars
black on white, like the movies.
Which movie am I in?
Why am I running, sweating,
terrified? Because from a
gust, a creak, a rustle I made
the man who killed me.
His knife is sharp and I know
he is behind me as I run full tilt
into you, dead 30 years:
cropped hair, roman nose, eyes brimming.
“O Finn, you found me!”
And hot in my hands you kissed me
boundlessly, your tongue a
technicolour thing in my mouth,
aching to penetrate into my
monochrome life instead of
being stranded here,
a ghost in a dream.

A Mother and a Daughter

As she was going she

went back to those

childhood woods where she

could hide for hours and

be naughty but you

resented your absence from a

world where you

weren’t conceived or

even imagined.

Anaesthesia

We so anaesthetize dying that

family and friends may as well be at a

pre-Funeral, unable to touch and

talk, reminisce and laugh through

what might be pain but may

also be love’s last kiss,

abolishing last words

famous or not.

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

Southern Georgia Bunny

Adventures of an Southern Bunny everything from dating, sex, life and shake your head moments.

Secret Dates Diary

Secret Dates Diary of Anne Regina

Hannah likes dirty words

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

word and silence

Poetry, History, Mythology

The Cat's Write

Milly Schmidt

ELLEGUYENCE

New content every Sunday

Love Hate Sex Cake

Musings on a Libidinous Life

Krystal Minx

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

R. A. Douglas

Dream big! Live bigger!

burning ambulance

a journal of arts and culture

The Used Life

Experiments in the Art of Mastering None

365 dni w obiektywie LG

365 days a lens LG