Saturday, 24 March 2012

Painted Cave


Painted Cave

This is my home, my house, my dwelling-place,
My soul-cold cave, my lightless hollow
It holds my spirit, my darkmint cool
Away where they, and you, can’t follow

But you! You obnoxious he-wolf
You grasp and grip at the shortest foothold
Clamber in by force and splash
The small reflection of what you were told

You rush around on your mission, you paint
You paint, you paint, with reds
And warms and yellows and neons and blues
The black is brightened, my broken head

I stand alone, naked, surrounded
Too-soon exposure horrifies my eyes
My own safe cavern is overwhelmed
It gasps and splutters, it shrivels, it dies.

Sunday, 18 March 2012

For My Mother

I wrote this for my mum. As it's just about still Mothers' (Mother's?) Day, I thought I'd post it.



Sixteen years ago
I was scared and angry at
ghosts with guns
And you held me and told me
You were scared too
I could tell you had
no idea what to say;
Who would?

But in amongst the horror
and the demons
and the realisation that the world
is an awful place - a hard lesson
for a little girl -
I felt loved

Now every year
On Mother’s Day
(which falls around
the same time as the anniversary
of the ghost
with a gun)
I remember that feeling
And I’m glad that
You’re there for me

Like I hope I will be there for
my children
because scared or not,
being loved matters
most of all
So please remember

You are loved by me
Just as I am loved by you

Saturday, 10 March 2012

How To Use What You've Got


Weary, she faces
family, new painted
lines each day
on her crumbling
superstructured face

But their eyes are filled with
spirit, which dissolves
the crackling gloss
against her wishes

And their hearts are filled with
proof and strength, which
set to work
rebuilding the foundations
filling caved in walls
closing broken windows

She is anew
Slowly growing to the
tower she once was, smoothed edges,
proud standing, held up by
spirit and proof and strength

A combination which
until now
had conspired to topple