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I Tried To Give You Up

I tried to bury the fountain
along with a rainbow
but I found you in my bed again
scribbling with crayons
I tried to cover up my tattoo
all these years of printing hearts
upon my sleeve
always yearning to improve

I tried to marry another way
pass the time with some other face
put my tools back in the drawer
and step away from what’s been said
I tried to give you up
as if there were ...

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writing

Holly Hagg

Pen devoid of poems
adventure long overdue
living room carpet
growing long in the tooth
I’m pining for movement
so keen to get out
I’ll go walking down
to Holly Hagg

Little glimpses at normality
haloed by golden rays
There’s no poison 
in the idle river
no politics
in the quiet horse
cantering to 
another chew

The clouds of working day
part while I’m out walking
bathed in nat...

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Leave Yourself Behind

A decade on, decade long
a journey
I’ve been filling this space with lines
you can follow them if you like

I’ve gone from ‘putting out’ only
to taking in, to loving others’ work
and learning
I hear their voices in my own words now

I’ve been leaving myself behind
these past ten years
writing wrongs
trying to find that spark

It’s said ‘don’t stay in any place too long
when you’re ...

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writingwolten yearsdecadepostingthanks

Crooked Café

I used to hate this part of town
After London
it felt like stepping back in time
as if all our momentum to the capital 
had been lost
these shops with their hand-painted signs
I didn’t recognise the names
they’re not triplicated on every high street

And now I sit
in the Crooked Café
the waitress always tries to remember my ‘usual’
but I love that she never quite gets it right
gives u...

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Why Poems?

Poems are my photographs
my diary
my inner monologue
poems are my measurement
my record
the fingerprints of emotions
invisible no more
Poems are my expression
the sum of interactions
they show my working out
Poems are the breath
of lost lovers
against my neck
Poems are my kisses
for my family and my friends
the hugs I seldom give

And your poems...
your poems keep me company
a l...

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poemspoetrywriting

Technique

The way I write…
I brainstorm twenty titles
words or phrases
that sound good to me
that subconsciously
already feel like parts of me
then I refine them
and refine them
pile them up around my feet

And when I’m in the mood to write
I’ll either start writing
(with aim or aimlessly)
until I get stuck
then I grab a title
work it in the lock
release whatever’s hidden
(and it feels good...

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Lunar

Poems are like moons
reflecting past light
back down towards me
when I choose to look

Mind and creation
coexisting
at a respectful distance

Purged
with so much space between us
I no longer live
through the poems
they’re just reflections now

Beneath the busy sky
I’m free
and living life...

 

(Inspired by Cynthia's moon poems)

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writingreflectionsmoon

Murmur Love

Don’t be scared to put it out there
Don’t be scared to speak
sometimes what you choose to make
is pure gold

Don’t be afraid to paint what you love
Don’t be afraid to create
some things are bigger than you ever knew
eternal beyond our lives

I say go
and keep going
go and keep going
murmur love, if that’s all you’ve got

I love the way you carve it
I love the way you write
I love ...

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artistscreativitylovepaintingwriting

You Are My Priest

Is it not the beads you count
Is it not that blessing
Is it not your seated position
on the far side of the screen

It’s here I come and spill
twisting myself as rope
endlessly unknotting 
a constant confessional

And through the cracks
behind the mesh
I feel your furtive eyes 
licking my salacious lines

Dear reader
you are my witness
you are my priest

Is it not the way you br...

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sharing workwritingwriteoutloudconfession

Mont Blanc #1

Will you buy me that slick pen
so expensive, so beautiful

I wonder will you wrap it
in specially chosen paper

some coastal scene perhaps
engraved with my initials

a pretty choice of inks
will I unwrap it on my birthday, beaming

say ‘thanks so much’ and kiss you
then write hard of my betrayals?

 

(Jan 2016)

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writing

The Prettiest Music

The heat switches between the rooms
From the front of the house, to the back
And on the bed, your curled form is laid
I'm watching the sky as it cries in the street
Blowing my nose and counting the people
They all carry bags of food to their cars
Filled with treats and sweet desserts
All insults to the hunger pains in my chest

As I move to the kitchen, you stir for a second
This day is ...

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