Read Poem: Until I Met You, by Tina Culora

Please check out my poem ‘Until I Met You’ published on festivalforpoetry.com

POETRY FESTIVAL. Submit to site for FREE. Submit for actor performance. Submit poem to be made into film.

I didn’t consider myself a writer until I met you.

You were all scruffy hair and spectacles

at the end of your nose,

all classic novels

and 20 cups of tea

to keep you going

your tap, tap, tap on your writing desk

with your ink-stained finger tips.

I inspired you, you had said

once

and I clung to this long after you had forgotten,

Your gentle smile and freckles and your one armed hugs

I

wrapped myself in your wool jumper that winter

jotting down pencil words in messy notebooks,

with sore fingertips on typewriter keys,

I am certain

I wasn’t a writer

Until you inspired me.

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Manon

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 listened carefully you could almost hear a hint of a growl

from the corner of his mouth

The sweat on his brow

window-wiped

with a lipstick blood handkerchief

Discarded

Before he returned home to his wife.

The silk strings on Manon’s corset were

always loose,

Ready for eager  fingertips,

That were too rough.

Fight for Us

I always thought we’d find our way back together, somehow, sometime, someplace.                                                                                    And we did. But we were older and we had changed.

You had made me cold.

You left. You were always good at walking away.

You did not look back this time.

You should have told me that you wanted to fight.

Until I Met You

I didn’t consider myself a writer until I met you.

You were all scruffy hair and spectacles

at the end of your nose,

all classic novels

and 20 cups of tea

to keep you going

your tap, tap, tap on your writing desk

with your ink-stained finger tips.

I inspired you, you had said

once

and I clung to this long after you had forgotten,

Your gentle smile and freckles and your one armed hugs

I

wrapped myself in your wool jumper that winter

jotting down pencil words in messy notebooks,

with sore fingertips on typewriter keys,

I am certain,

I wasn’t a writer,

Until you inspired me.

 

 

The Irish Sea

I lost my heart in the irish sea

amongst the seaweed and the debris,

the eye of Ireland took mine for its own

In Donabate the shores your home,

sand grain free and sea so blue

take me, take me with you,

I lost my heart to the irish sea

I’ll hold my breath and count to three

 

take me, take me