Poetry Blog by Katy Megan Hughes

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Nigel Astell on I an Not his Muse (Mon, 21 Nov 2016 02:29 pm)

Nigel Astell on From poetical parody to being me... (Fri, 18 Nov 2016 04:09 pm)

Andy N on From poetical parody to being me... (Fri, 18 Nov 2016 12:50 pm)

Cynthia Buell Thomas on The Transformation (Tue, 20 Sep 2016 12:08 pm)

Nigel Astell on The Transformation (Mon, 19 Sep 2016 02:40 pm)

Nigel Astell on Storm of Silence (Wed, 14 Sep 2016 01:55 pm)

Nigel Astell on Fortitude (Mon, 22 Aug 2016 02:59 pm)

Nigel Astell on Awakening (Mon, 8 Aug 2016 01:54 pm)

Nigel Astell on Solitude (Mon, 1 Aug 2016 02:46 pm)

Nigel Astell on Resurrection (Wed, 20 Jul 2016 12:21 pm)

I an Not his Muse

I’m not his muse, and I can never be.                        

No time, circumstance or chance will let me.                       

 

After all he gives and gets, loves, regrets,                 

he remains my teacher and I, the taker.                    

He is anarchist and challenging creator,                   

who advocates the belief I have no need

to be seen and posed as a...

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KatypoetessMusepoetry muse

From poetical parody to being me...

Time is rolling on and just to let those who read and comment on my poetry know that I am moving away from my alter ego Katypoetess to using my own name....it will be a gradual move and hopefully a positive one as I need to do this to be taken seriously as a poet. ? 

More poetry to follow soon....

Katy

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Katypoetess

The Transformation

entry picture

Solitude 

I remain free

my own lost saviour

a follower of no-one

sorcering a new novena.

 

 

Awakening

I still storms

in steadfast spirit

a respectable sinner

proclaiming the illicit.

 

 

Doubt

I demure uncertain

face reveals and veils

heart throes stone to flesh

keeping close my seven devils.

 

 

Fortitude

I am graced

with all v...

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Katypoetessmary magdaleneShadows of Magdalene

Storm of Silence

entry picture

As the indecorous breeze does billow

ebb and flow of his dreams,

swelling a deep desire

for her to return

within each tide

of hesitation.

 

As the unconscious ark of salvation,

sinks slow beneath his sleep,  

drowning a deep desire

for her to return

he lies laconic

of malediction.

 

© Katypoetess 2016

 

 

 

 

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Katypoetesslovelove poetryShadows of Magdalene

Fortitude

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I am graced

with all virtues from history

my archetype immortalised

amidst this scripture of mystery.

 

© Katypoetess 2016

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archetypeskatypoetessShadows of Magdalene

Doubt

entry picture

I demure uncertain
face reveals and veils
heart throes stone to flesh
keeping close my seven devils.  

 
©  Katypoetess 2016

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KatypoetessShadows of Magdalene

Awakening

entry picture

I still storms

in steadfast spirit

a respectable sinner

proclaiming the illicit.

 

©  Katypoetess 2016

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KatypoetessShadows of Magdalene

Solitude

entry picture

I remain free

my own lost saviour

a follower of no-one

sorcering a new novena.

 

©  Katypoetess 2016

 

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Katypoetessmary magdaleneShadows of Magdalene

Resurrection

entry picture

His unravelling - of sacred shroud.

 

The suffocation of

her melancholic madness

by cloth of self-belief

blesses a new beginning.

 

The emancipation from

Poetess to temple Papess

his ruin miraculously raised

to unrepentant penitent.

 

The revealing complete

unveils fervent holiness,

his new bride of a Christ

in divine ambiguity.

 

His lost gospel ...

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Katypoetesslove poetryShadows of Magdalene

Forsaken

I search

for your soul

in every passing stranger's face.

Knowing it is too late.

 

I dreamt

we met again

soothing all the pain between us.

The cruellest of dreams.

 

I crucify

time through mourning

yet it cannot hold back dawning,

of my emancipation.

 

© Katypoetess 2016

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Katypoetesslovelove poetry

La Petite Mort of Creativity

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Let me bleed out a moment’s release,

from this contemptible inner peace.

 

my tears are too clear of midnight ink,

my thoughts are apathetic and indistinct.

 

I look for omens, cracks in bedroom mirrors,

for owls, magpies - among nests of unfamiliar

 

I churlishly spread my coquettish legs

seducing any passing stranger’s death.

 

To be touched - trembled by fi...

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deathKatypoetesssex

Immortal Soliloquy

entry picture

They say that the worst kind of grieving

is when the lost antagonist is still alive,

whether sudden as a spring swallow’s dive

or a slow wintered bewilderment in the leaving.

Buried, burnt or butchered cruelly out of heart

that did endure with vexation and veneration,  

fear of being alone or guilt of being causation

of their final yield to the wind that blows love apart.

 

...

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deathkatypoetesslovelove poetrymourning

Clouds of Loss

entry picture

If I had
one wish
then it
would not be
for a kiss,

but to look
into the storm
of your eyes again,

and listen.

Katypoetess 2016

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KatypoetessLovelove poetry

Cacophany in the Second City

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I amble amongst the snake trail
of crowds and loud streets
of consumer rights and political fights.


Then he came and  asked me
whether I had any faith at all
and I shook my head in a lie
while he thrust a pamphlet
of salvation into my hands. 

 

 And he said "Are you religious
as I am not and never was because
it binds you too tight but do try
as you might to turn to God my love...

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Katypoetess

Preaching

entry picture

Acquire my peace within yourselves

 

She is nobody’s disciple,

a dither of image and noise,

amongst everybody’s daily causality.

 

No crowds will gather,

as she looks into the eyes,

that lie tied, and tired in front of her.

 

She is every colour

of skin, every age, every weather,

every obedience and whim, with no morality.

 

Dwelling in a magdala

of imm...

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Katypoetessmary magdalene

The Silencer

She whispers an aberration,

with mouth of soot stained metal.

Pointing out deluded self-doubt,

muzzling lies with targeted fire.

Seizing breath without sound,

at least four Turks and a Russian

With little or no repercussion.

 

Synapsed heart from sharp to steel.

Drinking shots after taking shots,

murdering time as it flies fast home,

past window of his decamped rea...

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Katypoetessreservistspecial forces

Las Vegas

Violation and depravity,
within isolation of this valley,
an extravagant medicine to take.

 

We pace the boulevard,
with no moral compass, neither
north or south in strip-sleazed haze.

 

Rolling violent dice
of drunken incomprehension,
morning sirens sing out my sin.

 

but the more I kneel before you,
the more you raise me to my feet.

 

What happens with us, st...

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Katypoetesslovelove poetry

The Temptation of St Anthony II

From Emperor to Vampire, then a journey to resting place of amoral monk.

Dwelling in ruined fort, living in a sin of retired idleness. Momentary desires

to follow the birds south, he spends his days tending a garden of lilies in the desert.

 

Anthony holds his poetess captive for too long without his hands, she now writhes

naked and tied to column of lost temple. Tresses burnt dark ...

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Katypoetesslovelove poetry

Anthony and Katypatra

I arrive. Quickly turning bedroom from Rome into Alexandria.
Skin up, pop cork to dilute and delight blood with Bollinger.
Determined to mix up a confidence to conquer, my
Goddess summoning up a strip tease of your morality.

 

“The triple pillar of the world transformed into a strumpet’s fool.”*

 

Coiling concubine - arabesque around your thighs to
nourish exotic fantasy. Arching p...

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Katypoetesslovelove poetry

Baptism

entry picture

Drowning.

 

When love

cuts deep

with grieving,

one immersion

bleeds into

the next.

 

If she gave

herself

in forgiveness –

would her shadow

follow her?

 

She unconsciously

weaves threads

of the past

summoning shroud

of the future.

 

Touched twice

in the laver

submerged in her

saviour’s perdition.

 

Condemned to

cold is...

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Katypoetesslovelove poetry

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