by Marianne Daniels
And May, with the mud puddles,
and dragon heads near surface, dipping
into slop mirrors, dancing with mouths,
from teal and taffeta slim beasts
ripe for spring and ballet coarse
jaunt of too many limbs,
and watching them dart over,
impossible to catch, like spritely neon
meteorites destined
for a life force
hidden within a folded doorway
amongst trees, and lake,
and path -
s...
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Friday 15th May 2015 3:31 pm
by Marianne Daniels
In silence
eyes peer from
tears in pumpkin skin,
mulched November
sweets left in a storing
room.
The love is gone,
two poets
eaten of their romance,
blueberry lips from
sore and rough kisses.
He left with a telegram
from the BBC
while She stirred up
in sour light,
rhubarbs ploughed by
her father’s moon.
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Tuesday 25th November 2014 3:59 pm
by Marianne Daniels
but rarely admit
what it has gone through -
the long nights
spent wrapped up
in some rusted bag of past,
days before when
walked on stomach,
mornings fresh fat
on the rug,
wriggling under
some menaced robin head.
We delight in its bijou,
its glass head of colour,
how the little bob to
the flower
gives us safety.
On your shoulder,
it is a good rest,
sweet and sleepy velvet,
and...
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Thursday 23rd October 2014 2:23 pm
by Marianne Daniels
When the day comes,
full of red nimbus skies
and black pronounced
against the bodies of - they will say it was
not outside of any plan.
Like, too, my foolish way
of thinking it is here, holding hands;
some real and loving thing,
they will say that everything
united is - universe after universe.
I could have most if it:
the blue and white eye delights,
...
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Thursday 18th September 2014 2:13 pm
by Marianne Daniels
In the groove of my thumb
I think I will find you - some
creature that can survive the dark.
You have whale eyes -
sad pebble holes for my dark
to allow each tear -
you the strongest,
the most sure, though unknowing.
To find you, in the dark
yet -
yes I think you will be in the
groove of my thumb
and gently most belonging you are,
I will finger paint
until you - hopeful
...
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Thursday 4th September 2014 6:06 pm
by Marianne Daniels
Amongst the bitten twigs and fur caught,
low shrubs where each of us
is half in the tree and half in the rock,
a skull the thumb size of climbing sleeps.
If you do not come back
I will untie the ribbons
from my hair and open the hollow
parts of my head to the wind.
You said I would do that
enough myself - my teeth cut,
my goose feather torn -
no excuse for you
baying in ...
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Thursday 21st August 2014 3:33 pm
by Marianne Daniels
How far? How far do you grow
your cute thoughts into their air,
blot cottons of arms, sugar sweet
in the shimmy?
The sky is a solemn blue,
the plain is flat and empty,
save for you, Pink Tree, you
and your hello.
Hello, hello, hello -
the rain dollops. Big fat hellos,
laughing too. Smacked right down
on to your pink palms.
You are the saddest of all trees.
No...
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Tuesday 5th August 2014 7:02 pm
by Marianne Daniels
Perhaps she reminded me of me;
flesh melted, her forever childish smile –
how the wax folds upturned her mouth
and the yarrow splits around her eyes,
those picked at -the stems of veins
crawling around her ears.
I need to get better,
close her sorrow around me
like that gentle fur of the toy kitten she holds -
I need to hold her and know what she knows.
N...
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Tuesday 29th July 2014 3:16 pm
by Marianne Daniels
Into that strange sky where
the past cries eternally, what drop
of tear would stay here on the earth?
They say the hummingbird dies
each night, dressed in alabaster
and the woman too cupping him
in her hands, soft woes for centuries
after – the muse’s muse who folds
her robes into a poem like a flower
losing itself to winter and the
pain of all colours that chap...
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Wednesday 4th June 2014 11:33 am
by Marianne Daniels
Above, the tiles slip
heat from a working noon -
invisible rising
of the giddy eye
to where he stands, oil dripping
in curious colours
more colour when touched
than seen,
above legend
and cosmos
in every morsel, scrap, empty logo
tossed from passing cars
and the navy scurry
of office legs,
to pinned folk lore
drawn garish, cartoonish
where yolk...
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Tuesday 13th May 2014 12:14 pm
by Marianne Daniels
In mad moments I wonder
if they crave the sharp injection of teeth -
crowded and desperate,
revealing blue blood;
their trails of squid ink
smeared on the back of my hand.
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Monday 17th March 2014 4:03 pm
by Marianne Daniels
Take the dustbins, the quietness of little
city growths – why do they not do?
Not count? People get lost, but places too –
and somewhere a car-park is wandering
in limerance without a painter’s touch.
See now how the bus stop crouches in the cold,
it’s head frightened, loosening up branches behind -
you do not love it,
you choose others
and its...
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Monday 6th January 2014 3:47 pm
by Marianne Daniels
Your weight
is like balancing small stones
or a column of water on my chest;
trickles of frequency;
humble –
not wishing to offend.
Compared with darker hues -
you clean me of defence;
lie me out thin;
a sleep growing old
by breathing small
through light narcotics.
Sometimes
clasps of evergreen
are at the shoulder
...
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Tuesday 10th December 2013 4:24 pm
by Marianne Daniels
They have this idea
to spend the year chatting,
lining the walls of the back garden;
their dresses ruffling with
every whispered tickle of birdsong.
Regal they are, lasting in their plump
precision; perhaps a grandmother
to all trees, whistling, offering
pinecones - I find them hopeful
of a hug every time I pass them.
As a child, I gave them my
...
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Friday 6th December 2013 12:16 pm
by Marianne Daniels
Its as if all measurable things
have become a threat –
clock faces that untwine our limbs,
second hands that drag our sleepy thoughts
to work, the seperation of each step away –
metres, miles -
impossible to train for; no rest allowing
of this – to go to different places in the day.
Like my dreams, half understood;
each a story of faulty echoes –
the...
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Tuesday 12th November 2013 2:19 pm
by Marianne Daniels
Persistent as daydreams
half given to heavy flown clouds,
grazing their bellies on the needle point
of something I could not remember -
these notes furious in my computer
make no sense, make no time,
give no memory that I know was mine,
a worthy turn of words to be proud.
Cotton tongued I am perhaps
from all those red eyed nights I spent collecting
those ...
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Monday 4th November 2013 3:58 pm
by Marianne Daniels
Dribbling down
my world half eaten by the running
sound of water in my brain -
there is some thought invested
wrong.
It is furious
for those women that cackle
in my make-up bag;
picking them out one by one,
to rub their tenderness on my skin
where it flakes off in places.
A mirror is mistaken;
the wrong side of a hemisphere
...
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Wednesday 23rd October 2013 2:50 pm
by Marianne Daniels
versioned into some smaller part of itself;
beauties
like the cirrus reach
of a cold wind where the split day
teases –
there is night, there is morning,
there is that second
where anticipation is worth
more than the reason
and gentle things we are
to worry so
for life being this;
delicate as a snowflake
tha...
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Monday 21st October 2013 1:55 pm
by Marianne Daniels
The things I have in my head
are of no matter to any one;
endless paranoia from the fall out
of letters; things to entice me
with the breakdown of lexicons
and fluff stuck tongue fat words.
My ears are stuffed; the ambushed prints
from unheard fingers on violins;
characters that bounce on a piano’s
hapless chin; music caught between
my teeth...
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Monday 21st October 2013 1:28 pm
by Marianne Daniels
Like the internet;
the pre-disposed characters
of life and love - coloured with
asterisks, italics;
pressed flowers of lies;
the fingertip and the keyboard,
untying, tying bootlaces to trip over;
there is nothing really known.
Try to forget the sun;
the mortal warmth,
and your figurative too –
everyone disappears;
authority or not, th...
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Wednesday 25th September 2013 2:43 pm
by Marianne Daniels
Each squeezed rancid
bellow; indulged, repulsed,
postured as a knuckle shove
of coloured fat slabs of green -
the anatomy of steam, of infrastructure -
is punked,
turned to believe;
greased with hips from kohl
smudged gloves, smitten cloaks
of coal on sweat,
pistol gripped,
faced into a dying sun.
The animation of gas tower...
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Thursday 19th September 2013 10:47 am
by Marianne Daniels
The neighbourhood is distinguishable
by its right-angles;
God-checkers; a wife’s eye
through the curtain;
People-carriers on the drive;
trees trimmed like cat’s ears.
The flight of a newspaper
hits the ground
at the same time
the toast is buttered.
Thank you, honey;
Plastic creaks –
the wire from the vacuum
around...
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Thursday 12th September 2013 2:50 pm
by Marianne Daniels
I have around my waist,
a flat line that divides;
breath lip-tight where glue seas
devour,
or a glass photograph of the sky;
some storm cloud promise where the drub
of my thumb print squeezes.
Fish? I have no idea,
just the pearl cute glimpse of my nails,
scavanging in alkaline,
twisted in bitten leaves of seaweed;
popping their war...
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Thursday 8th August 2013 9:49 am
by Marianne Daniels
Pure, unabsorbed –
the gallery doesn’t welcome visitors.
Cured of insult, modern unsympathetic,
eased of innocence with passive
resting scores of nothing; no anger,
no urination of thought –
a globe of cleansed weapons,
white washed scars -
here is your superiority, as inspiring
as a closing lid.
I hear you smirk
within the fo...
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Thursday 8th August 2013 9:46 am
by Marianne Daniels
I hear the echoes of misguided footsteps,
things unkindly dropped, whispers;
the ripples of conversation
dappled through dust notes;
a geometry in sunlight.
The wood groans.
Twice I have had to move;
the heat through the windows
sodden in the pews;
hexagon boxes that outline the hall.
I have the dim light here;
the-other-...
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Monday 29th July 2013 11:23 am
by Marianne Daniels
So they grow, like physical memories
of breath; a presence of time unabated
by those who sit in their office clothes
painting the window upon their eyelid;
each second unpassed but lived through.
They wave and dance with ease -
the cleanse of being a tree, so like a child
in every wind. Falling down, they are a compass
to my own destruction; my slice...
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Friday 5th July 2013 12:24 pm
by Marianne Daniels
Aurora:
Born luminous in bands of dactyl light
beginning, I am -
fresh upon your eyelids,
the genesis of ambition.
I claim the day; your inseparable calendar,
pearl cupid thoughts;
what will be, will be
in the design of oyster paint, one morning promises.
Meridian:
Impaled, my wet lank claws disquieted,
stroking y...
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Friday 21st June 2013 2:17 pm
by Marianne Daniels
It could be fair to move through in reticence,
keep the air, like the dream , suspended;
caught in a welling eye, an un-succinct pool to dive
your heart - whole and ecstatic in your gasp,
watching the second hands static,
watching the light before the grasp of projection.
It could be right to keep your sight a trance;
movement of colour as fast as coffe...
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Monday 3rd June 2013 9:49 am
by Marianne Daniels
Her toes were dimpled , coltish imprints;
Angel fish swimming too close to the tide,
my belly aching where the tiny sand pools
formed; each ripple, a rehearsal.
I found her hair tangling around
my ankles; a translucent green -
the shoreline being so unforgiving;
quick to bury my womanhood
in moving waters.
I thought she should have dark
...
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Thursday 16th May 2013 12:31 pm
by Marianne Daniels
It is a balanced miracle orb;
a hidden spectator that shields of blue disrobe
and softly, I have been told to use it - those narcotic rubbed words;
eclectic hearts, vessels blotted -
but no one knows the half of me yet.
I find it in the smallest of days -
the circular mirror I have to grip; veins on each nerve,
tectonic twists;
and the window of a mo...
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Tuesday 14th May 2013 2:46 pm
by Marianne Daniels
These cotton thoughts of mine;
frayed white lines and webs of string
that groove my teeth with the clean squeaks of a finely able
space to move through,
have no end -
no angle to derive
a valid point or culture;
the lips I douse cotton bobbins with
a Claret heritage.
My thoughts are like the pickled
fingertips of a Dodo in a glass box; d...
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Thursday 9th May 2013 12:10 pm
by Marianne Daniels
Expression is not my forte;
foot slipping centipede that I am, queuing up
for my opportunity to speak; my mouth
a pulp of green words.
The clumsy arcs in my conversation
are like fluffed popsicle sticks
underneath the couch, unable to draw
attention. I do not have villas, or cornfields
or seascapes to draw my inspiration;
m...
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Tuesday 23rd April 2013 2:47 pm
by Marianne Daniels
I have a
thought; exact
in its weight,
the drag of my
forehead down
into my chest -
a pompous,
self-eclipsed
thought
consumed in
the possession
of my
imaginary
husband,
my imaginary
parents and
god.
This thought is
confident,
observed by
rejection
and prospering
in the infantile
way my
f...
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Thursday 18th April 2013 2:43 pm
by Marianne Daniels
Far from the commuter’s rush
we watched the skyline linger;
the ferry’s lace of water like trails of
morning pinched in jet stream.
I tried to balance
sneaking my hands into your pockets to keep warm
while you took photographs of America
and a little lopsided, a little drunk
with the quiver of sleep still in my stare
I leant into you and over your...
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Monday 15th April 2013 2:08 pm
by Marianne Daniels
These are the frightening things of half understood
memories; traipses of corn ears furrowed by a field
wrapped within the sun and its shadows.
Someone walks into it blinded by the white
stretch; their hands over their eyes - those grilled black fingers
unkind to touch, cowardly bent.
Faceless, the rows of industrial secrets
bend and thread; their ...
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Thursday 21st March 2013 1:52 pm
by Marianne Daniels
What heavy breath escapes you;
matted creature, snorting monster–
four legged man without woman
as master;
your beard twists of licked
charcoal curls; dark- rubbed
with the rolling clouds behind.
I hear the sounds of a wet chest
strained upon the muscle
of your front legs;
an intelligent mind, outside the materials
of a humankind;
free runn...
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Thursday 28th February 2013 2:13 pm
by Marianne Daniels
I have paid my way through
the looseness of my clothes, the soldered
line of my jaw, the victim quiet
puckered lips of pale milk blood
knowing only the night to lift
those lilac folds of eyelid thin dreams
to the surface of my sleep;
happy pillowed mounds for my body
to exist without bold dark definitions.
I have a cave for the ...
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Tuesday 12th February 2013 2:01 pm
by Marianne Daniels
And now I do not wish
for things hidden in the sky;
in the ground of this snow,
the cold is telling in my limbs,
grey cliffs my flesh passes through.
My lungs –
burnt poppy coals –
have left the sea;
each secret translucent
as the next: a bedding tide,
a tangle of limp hair;
a man who lost his pocket watch,
his albatross w...
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Monday 4th February 2013 3:26 pm
by Marianne Daniels
Within the folds of half death, a sleeping eye, devoured where night breathes in unknown ghosts; a tender peel of giving up reveals itself. Sheet clothed limbs twist in subordinate desire, to sleep, to be unrefined and outside of skin moulded lines. A crucifix is over my door, the body; hazel fine. It drips divine down the darkened beams; shoulders pained with cute pinned hands; a gaze almost s...
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Saturday 2nd February 2013 11:19 pm
by Marianne Daniels
From the shadows of everything,
kin upon skin –
here I stand, incomplete;
years of incomprehensions, unsympathetic
brittle limbs
curving in the belly of the moon.
I have three decades under my thumb;
they are light in the complexions
of others; this Chinese lantern paper
allowing;
a bold bright second
angry against the topaz sky.
...
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Tuesday 22nd January 2013 2:41 pm
by Marianne Daniels
What are Years?
I asked you once, secretly –
my hands tangled within the fragments
of tissue paper.
They are not wanting to go,
I answered for you; your eyes -
the pours of an unusual me -
a witness knowing the power
of sight; a touching distance
where love creates.
They say the need is more hungry
than the wait,
but...
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Thursday 17th January 2013 11:33 am
by Marianne Daniels
From the window I see them;
desperate anorexics, unmistakable
strips of winter –
they are always in my eyesight,
always vivid when my hours lean
me to the hollowed out corners of my imagination.
Pure, white, dead –
these limitations of a day
set on a page; the rat of boredom,
or the inconsolable child
who shows nothing of being nurtured,
...
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Friday 11th January 2013 3:38 pm
by Marianne Daniels
Be it my own secret heart -
ink damned -
where flutters a thought
full on the night; a witness
warm behind my eyes,
or a trail of bird feathers
wet
with indigo sleep,
flat upon a parched brown map
of caffeine deaths -
my handwriting will run away
from me.
There is no tip of horse hair,
or dipping lip of Arabian song
that ...
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Thursday 10th January 2013 3:34 pm
by Marianne Daniels
It clots the room with its tutting tongue, my flesh underneath; sectioned up like butchers meat. Each second is pronounced; lines drown upon my brow and grease fevered cheeks, the veins gathering speed where my fists grip the looseness of words that gutter-fit from night and sense. The cut of day, beamed as sharp as knives; draws flecks of dust, years of skin as if by moving into this continu...
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Sunday 30th December 2012 2:35 pm
by Marianne Daniels
Such clothes it threads
with every strumming tool -
I awake to the songs skinned on me;
the nerve of hairs,
a delicious fur of vibrations.
Sometimes my cause
is electric, my itch desired
for the rough;
an octave split upon
the humpback whale,
a pulse shredding;
ribbon thick.
Sometimes my cures
are private embryonic sounds;
...
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Tuesday 11th December 2012 1:38 pm
by Marianne Daniels
Obsessive, yes
with the things unable to disclose –
the colour of my infant years;
the warm goo of being the only one
to proudly lamp the black open sky.
I have the ruins;
something that burns your shoulder,
hard to clench your fist in the pull
of an orange ripe from the tree.
Your hands, my dear, your hands
from climbing to ...
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Friday 30th November 2012 2:30 pm
by Marianne Daniels
Your feet carving into a hill
and down to the river become
poisonous paths of yellow sick
heads;
chummy dares for the pluck
of your fingers yet.
Where the spring of you is –
tongue lolling, the soft
of laughter, loosely tasted
in the breeze – a bud
to summer, you are
forward; always.
Always going somewhere
hunger lunged
...
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Wednesday 28th November 2012 10:58 am
by Marianne Daniels
The bouquets -
lips puckered for the sun –
are girlish ploys; patterned
and perfumed for command;
not love words,
standing prominent on her dresser.
I watch how they shy away
from the colour of her hair,
the pull of her comb,
the smile of her lipstick.
Their thorns are ripe,
hurt rough; incisors for circumcision.
I sit on the end...
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Wednesday 14th November 2012 2:36 pm
by Marianne Daniels
Softly you come in,
where the afternoon melts;
a sigh in step -
the ways to make you see,
expect what weeks
number out – the line
of summer fading on my back;
an orange press of glass
and the pour of your shoulder.
Our fingers twist in the cord;
the hiss of dark pursed
and stung on the lip, folding in sleeps
of ...
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Friday 9th November 2012 2:58 pm
by Marianne Daniels
The tin can hits; incisors, molars, wincing gums –
a funk of prosperity
and that slowly sliding choke
of clarity.
It is way over the lip.
This need in you to visit words, to prick the soles of syllables
with flags,
why – it burps; your thoughts too fizzy
with effect.
(The cataracts of too many dotted
eyes...
Read and leave comments (2)
Wednesday 7th November 2012 3:41 pm
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