Karen Ankers lives in Anglesey, where she draws inspiration from family, everyday life and the mythic landscape for her writing. As well as poetry, she writes one act plays, in which she tries to give a voice to those who would normally be unheard. Her plays can be found on Lazybee Scripts and have been performed in the UK, USA, Australia and Malaysia. She has taught creative writing in the past. She is a founder member of Cybi Poets and is currently working on a novel.
Excuse Me excuse me we’re the people just the people the ones who bake your bread sweep your streets write your books teach your children make your clothes drive your taxis look the other way while we print your lies the ones you couldn’t survive without and we’d just like to say we’ve had enough of being hungry being cold being told we’re too stupid to decide what’s right and what’s wrong wrong is a child without a home wrong is a bombed and breathless city wrong is a dying man stepped over on a busy street you fed us poison through television tubes hoping it would blind us told us to be silent in case we woke your fiction forged monsters dripped bitter drops of venom to deepen dream infested sleep but we are awake now remember us Left Behind soon you were only the rise and fall of a close watched chest an intake of oxygen a faint hiss of hope and then you were silence love hung like rain on the taut stretched moment before tears tipped and fell and we clung to all the things you used to be ignored the fading warmth of fingers the stiffening of skin crowded the room with memories as though your final calm was not enough Sometimes love pulls tight sometimes like a dress a size too small the kind you wear for vanity though you can’t sit down or breathe and don’t dare eat love rubs raw sometimes like the itchy wool you suffer because you like the colour and it covers the raised red rash that was once your skin love leaves spaces sometimes like the ragged holes in a favourite scarf threads pulled loose by restless fingers unravelled by time love wears smooth sometimes like a well worn sweater the kind you know is out of fashion and doesn’t even fit any more but you can’t throw it away because you know it so well and because you remember the day you bought it the thrill of bringing it home looking in a mirror believing it was yours instantly forgetting how much it cost and sometimes just sometimes love is the dress you know you look good in the one that didn’t look quite right on the hanger in the shop and when someone suggested you try it on you said really? me? and then you pulled it to you felt it gather around you looked in the mirror and saw how beautiful you always were
All poems are copyright of the originating author. Permission must be obtained before using or performing others' poems.
Meeting At Euston (17/06/2017)
Excuse Me (20/05/2017)
On Waking (19/05/2017)
On Parade (24/04/2017)
Left Behind (23/04/2017)
- 2017 (1)
Viewed 425 times since 16 Apr 2017
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