New bio in progress :)
I am writing poems, more poems, about him. It has occured to me in a fluttering panic that my shoddy attempts might be the only poems about him -
By TheSpinstress2 months ago in Poets
I believed in the laws of physics before I met you before sixty minutes started being twenty before two and a half hours in the palm of your hand
I remember dead whale on the beach, enormous and small at the same time, Minke, not stinking like people said it would but not exactly emitting an aroma for sore noses either; we were told not to touch it so we compromised, one fingertip each.
It amazes me how I keep on ticking on in the usual way when I know that my terrorist heart is building a nail bomb ready to slash up my life
You are supposed to like trees, Butterflies and birds and bees And all the nasty bits of nature In this pursuit, I am a failure.
Love in the wrong place I feel it as hunger and answer it: a chocolate bar dipped in a jar of peanut butter, a punnet of strawberries and cream,
By TheSpinstress4 months ago in Poets
My instincts scream danger, so I walk right in. Colourblind myself - let the games begin. My conscience protests but you silence the din,
You blocked this contact despite being in love with them for months. Well done. That was hard. . Do you want to back up this chat?
By TheSpinstress5 months ago in Poets
The poet does not sleep with the Muse. Not even when drunk on his whisky eyes out of it on the scent of his skin trapped in the heat of his breath
I am dressed for the funeral of my self-respect black from head to toe except the scarf to hide the bruises of your love
I am not saving my best poems for a competition I can't afford to enter and will never win. I am not hiding my worst poems
I kill time that wants to live. I'm not winding you up. It's time to be alarmed. Put your hands up, clock. Tick for no, tock for yes: