If I had a daughter
I would tell her
each tear that falls is diamond water.
Do not waste them on unworthy men
My mother says, do not trust
the blue-eyed boys
Look carefully, she says
For the growl
from in between his teeth.
He will gnaw you to white bone,
he will cut through you like rope,
the hint of the devil curled into the corner of his mouth
liquor, against her
he could not see the fire
In her ribcage of flames
so burn him to the ground
Before he has a chance to put it out.
You flew free.
The caged little bird grew up to be a wild raven,
Walking over the ashes of lost men.
So, again, my dear child.
Each tear that falls is diamond water,
Do not waste them on unworthy men.
Distance came to me a year later,
Tall and handsome,
he had not changed.
But, You haven’t known Distance.
Not until he says hello,
and you can’t recognise his voice anymore
Until he hugs you
and his arms
Until you breathe him in
but his scent has been
I was certain I only knew Distance
once you were no longer familiar
But two years later,
Distance came again,
I welcomed him back
like an old friend.
Paris was vibrant, the outskirts, charcoal. In dark corners the women in red lifted skirts for men in top hats. Manon was a demi-monde beauty, scarlett dressed and wide-eyed, Harlot, They called her, The men with grasping hands who were always hungry. An animal appetite behind human eyes A beast in a suit. If you […]
via Manon- Tina Rose — Whisper and the Roar
My willow tree/
All bark and brown and
Suddenly changes/ the weather tugs
At milk clouds/birds disperse/
A storm ahead/ humid grey and orange streaks
The rain almost disbands in on itself/ Then
A thousand tiny drop-
see what happens next/
The sky said to the willow tree,
As the sun tickled my neck to say hello
And ‘don’t forget about me’/
the sky a purple florid
a pop of white/
I welcomed the milky way /that night
in willow tree dreams
This is my spring poem ‘Yellow Daffodils’ published in the Palatinate, Durham University’s newspaper. I just love the gorgeous floral illustration!
You see that I don’t look so good in yellow, like your other dolls they do.
Yellow daffodils that matched her dress
The sun in her eyes as she lay down to rest,
She waited and waited for him to arrive
But the day it grew cold
As she opened her eyes,
Where are you? She wondered
Heartbeat in mouth,
The sun it was going
Tears they fell down
Creases in dress as she whispered his name,
It was spring when he left
And spring when he came.
I went to the Irish countryside
to get away from you
To breathe the clearer air in
To breathe you out for good.
Myself, ah, I found myself again!
I found Laughter
a cabin in the woods.
Ireland made me a home,
Because I was never home
In Rathdrum, County Wicklow
A little farm
away from you,
You far away from me.
How refreshing to wake up to birdsong
instead of your mother tongue,
When you would drown me in water kisses.
How you would laugh
as I held my breath
Let me go let me go
let me leave.
You reminded me of a Monday morning cigarette break.
That between awake and asleep
the day away,
With my rolled-up heart
Charred around the edges
for the blackness
That came with your presence.
Your kiss with its darkness
And your charcoal throat
The same warmth
that arrived with a raspy inhalation
of smoke through nose to chest,
My tar lungs and cigarette breath.
Burnt out amber
Of orange and black
Sparks against pavement,
The miniature fireworks
Under my fake Laboutin shoe.
You were my
Narcotic, Insomniac Addiction
Darling, Come Monday morning,
I thought of you.
“Am I still your favourite person?”
I asked, eyes wide,
Arms wrapped behind my back like folded
Can you unfold me and
tug at the frayed edges until we forget they existed,
Kiss me clean.
“Am I still your favourite person?” I ask,
Or just forgotten