‘A moth-craft, ether, a plant that tells your fortune’
Those crumpling brown wings, which I once thought ugly and decrepit, let the sun through so beautifully, that I had no choice but to embrace its warmth. I stood beneath that large moth as it flew overhead, the rays overlaying another shade of brown to my skin. At last I bathed in it, and let it fasten itself to me. Then, as I strolled through the rest of the garden, the clouds drew themselves together. They were following the trail of liquid behind me – so I called to them:
‘Come, children, follow behind me.’
They were often jealous and angry, shifting their moods more frequently than the seasons themselves (but I suppose in that sense they do take after their mother).
Cumulo chased ahead, riding the mists of the azure. The concave sky gave into his weight, as he dipped into the atmosphere to walk alongside me and drink from the pools of hawkmoth below my feet that carried me forward. In rage I blew him back up into the air, but in rage he blew it back out at me, flooding my pools with rain. Drop by drop, I began to fall through the slow-forming marsh, encased in his horrid opaque secretion, like that hideous spineless creature I expelled those years ago.
Happy International Women’s Day everyone! Sometimes it annoys me that women are treated like amazing goddesses on this day, and praised for being super strong superwomen all the time without people ever actually vouching for change? So, I wrote this poem. Let me know what you think in the comments below! (PS – this may or may not have been inspired by Avatar)
You, woman, are
rising each day to
set each night
even though you know the pain of doing both.
You, woman, are
spreading yourself across continents simultaenously,
and sometimes even into those dark caves,
where no one else will go.
And yes, sometimes you are tsunami, sometimes you are
Some people deserve to be washed away,
I hope you make them drown.
You, woman, are
built from the mud lain before you,
growing things anew.
It’s a slow process, OK?
You’re still sprouting,
so don’t let anyone walk over you.
And you, woman, are
not a natural wonder or an unnatural disaster,
not divine nor domestic,
not anything you don’t want to be
Hey everyone! Apologies for not posting last week, BUT I have a good reason, because on Saturday I was at the UK National Poetry Slam! I am happy to announce that I came in 3rd place! I had spent so much time practicing that I didn’t have enough energy to write a post. BUT I’m back!! AND here with a NEW POEM 😱😱😱😎😎💥💥💥 I wrote this about how recently I’ve finally been able to take control of my negative feelings rather than get stuck in them. Enjoy!
Your hand slips between your lips and lifts all her fingers inside. She’s not lost anymore, walks straight past the canines (sharp!) takes a right at the left molar 2 paces South of the Tongue and -- aha!
Hey guys! So whilst the weather in London has been getting better, I’ve been ill! (Yay (!) ) I’m not quite up to writing a full blog post, but like I said at the beginning of the year, I am putting out a new post on Sundays no matter what! So, here’s a little haiku about being ill. Enjoy! 🤒🤒🤒🤒
The house was as it always was; the concoctions of must and chipping paint gave it its usual pungent smell, while the ever-expanding cobwebs decorated the plain walls nicely. Like the residents, the spiders themselves were scarcely seen, however, meaning that the space between the walls were often left blank. An empty home was a strange sight indeed. No family, no dining table, no white picket fence here.