Tag: lips

My Poetry

Going Out

  NaPoWriMo day twenty seven. For poem number twenty seven I have gone with today’s NaPoWriMo suggested prompt to write a hay(na)ku. The hay(na)ku is, apparently, a variant on the haiku. To quote NaPoWriMo “A hay(na)ku consists of a three-line stanza, where the first line has one word, the second line has two words, and the third line has three words. You can write just one, or chain several together into a longer poem” so here’s my take on it. This poem’s called Going Out.

Going Out

Soak

in bath,

shave legs smooth.

 

Clean

teeth, cream

face and body. Continue reading “Going Out” →

My Poetry

Listen

NaPoWriMo Day 29.  Penultimate day, can’t give up now – there is an end in sight. Today’s poem is called Listen

Listen

Listen

There are ghosts scratching at the door,

bleeding through the walls

and rising through the floorboards.

Weary bodies press against the window.

Cold air streams through the keyhole

wrapping itself around you.

Icy lips rest against your ear and whisper

Catch life,

Catch it while you can:

Soon it will be gone.

 

 

My Poetry

I appear to have drunk a little too much

NaPoWriMo Day 10 and I’m a bit of a roll. Surely this has cured my writers block? Today’s poem is again stream of consciousness: it seemed the right way to go with this one.

I appear to have drunk a little too much

I am an empty husk harvested too

early the night is still fresh but I am

spent there are faces across the table that look

familiar their mouths open and close too fast for

me to catch the blah blahs that effortlessly roll Continue reading “I appear to have drunk a little too much” →

My Short Stories

First Date

“My mother sometimes loved me” he says, “well that is to say she loved me when it suited her. She was not an affectionate woman, not affectionate at all. As a matter of fact she could be quite unkind.”

“I’m sorry to hear that” I reply, “mothers should always be kind to their children.”

“Yes you would think so wouldn’t you?” His lips part to form something more akin to a grimace than a smile.

I search for phrases, conversational pieces suitable for such a candid revelation. “Was your childhood very unhappy?”

“Oh no” he says “not at all. It was mostly very pleasant. I didn’t know any different you see. I thought everyone’s mother gave kisses as treats to be earned. “

“A mother’s love is usually unconditional” I say.

“Yes apparently so. Still, I had the last laugh” he lets out a sly chuckle. “She’s dead now.”

“Oh dear.”

He claps his hands and rubs them together with glee. “Shall we have some dessert? The Death By Chocolate looks exquisite don’t you think?”