Hi, my name's Nat. I love to write poetry as a snapshot of what I am feeling or who I am in that moment. I studied English Studies at Uni which included creative writing; and poetry was my specialism. Since then, it has become less about what I think it should be and more about what I want it to be. For me it is about expression. I am a trained Counsellor and have found poetry a release as well as an invaluable tool for self-reflection. Sometimes the poems just write themselves which I always find amazing. I think words are a fantastic source of connection and inspiration and I am always looking for that in other poets. I love it when I hit the jackpot and have a goosebumps moment. Poetry can be magic.
UNRAVELLING "Like peeling an onion" you said. No. More; unseaming slipped stitches, knotted aims, frayed edges. Hunchbacked, peddling metal over punched pins, threading maydays into cloth. Fingers fumbling at loose seams, unravelling weaves, desperate hems, moth eaten, scrapped themes. Now, all I am is an empty spool, someone's discarded thimble. Rethread. Try the pattern again. I SEE YOU I see you there; hiding behind layers of an icy stare, lurking in the shadows of a wicked wit, peeking from behind your "I don't give a shit". I see you there; shivering, alone and bare. thinking no-one in the world will ever care. But I see you and, I do. TWO TREES BENDING Two trees bending, heads touching brows under starlight, sunrise, sunset, moonlight. Beneath; a pool, swilling softly into peaks of undulating rhythms. And save for swaying, nothing moves. Nothing has to. Sitting on its dewy banks, time dancing on tiptoes, so as not to disturb the hush of sunsets watching silent souls sleeping. RAIN DANCERS The window wide open, I look to the street and listen to raindrops sporadically beat. The splitter and splatter of dancing on slate, the light slowly dimming, the time getting late. They shimmy down drainpipes and glide down the pane, pirouetting off people protected from rain, in waterproof raincoats with hoods fastened tight, like rain is so vicious with deadliest bite. But here in my bedroom I'm cosy and warm, I'm sitting admiring their beautiful form lit up by the street lights they sparkle and shine, tip tapping in sequins, plip plopping in time. TRAFFIC JAM I sat in lines at biting point biting my lip then gave it up put my lip balm and the hand brake on. Staring out I swam away from all-combusting fits of flames I, treading thoughts 'til the tide changed. Then snorting fumes I blew away flew queue jumps flipped bird parades 'til stung by horns I thudded down and sauntered on to meet the day. IT'S HAPPENING It's happening. I didn't think it would to me, I blinkered myself from harsh realities I didn't want to see - plunged myself head long in sands as, unbeknownst to me, those particles beneath my feet were leaking out into some secret ether. When I was young I had a naive notion that all parts were mechanised, like robot cogs spinning bright, defiantly against the clock; reasoned - gilded fragments could not be hurt; metallic chambers simply rot. But here, another family gathering I notice you - more back than forward looking now as, cruelly whipping sheets, you show the truth of how those innards actually are vile; vulnerable and sick like a mad magician unhinging his trick. While left bereft, betrayed, I'm brimming with misguided tears that bust at dams of innocence sweeping currents swilling at gone years; marooning me on rough, ramshackled rafts of memories and laughter jeered and past. Then, lost - you find me, washed up, sand grains later; hold me let the tide lap gently on your chest. And finally we see as one all that is left and find peace in the magic gone. ETHEREAL Bang my limbs on tight taut moons Bleed my drips of sunshine seas Dot to dot my stars to spoons Fire my spinning moon to beams
All poems are copyright of the originating author. Permission must be obtained before using or performing others' poems.
Mini tusk trunk (16/11/2017)
Scuttle Pincer (03/11/2017)
It's working (03/11/2017)
Cosmopolitan brightness (02/11/2017)
Here and Now (10/10/2017)
Working in a prison (02/10/2017)
Chill the fuck out (26/09/2017)
Blog link: https://www.writeoutloud.net/blogs/natfastic
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