Blog Entries by Marianne Daniels (2014)

Mitternacht

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

We Delight in the Beauty of the Butterfly

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

To a Dying Star

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

Print

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

Eyas

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

Pink Tree

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

Burns

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

Death

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

Raven

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

Blueberries

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

Muses

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

Recent Comments

Mitternacht

We Delight in the Beauty of the Butterfly

To a Dying Star

Print

Eyas

Pink Tree

Burns

Death

Raven

Blueberries

Muses

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