CATCH ME – A POEM

Uncategorized, Writing

Catch me on a good day 

And I’ll smile ivory

With polished bone,

Shake your hand or

Embrace until I find

Safety in a collarbone,

Reality in tired eyes;

I’d be happy, that’s for sure.

 

Otherwise, I won’t catch you,

I’ll be busy shouting static

Or imagining this tragic

Day would morph into some good;

I’ll worry over flea sized, pea shaped

Small fries, anxious that my disguise

Of normality will slip, that I’ll have 

To look a little mad, mental, or sick;

In that moment where I’m most alone,

I’ll drown myself in treacle tone,

Crave the crater of your collarbone and

The challis of your hips.

 

 

 

LAUGHING AT ROSES – A POEM

Uncategorized, Writing

February, in bitter cold

we found ourselves

staring upon shelves

upon shelves;

glaring rows of roses,

roads of crimson cut with white.

 

Your hand tore away

from the cuff of mine,

you laughed, howled at

the inadequacy of thorns,

fingered the blade and

mocked its rust;

you saw no beauty in the blunt,

no mirror for your trust.

 

Pulling past pallets, stacked

and packed in plastic wrap,

suffocating them all,

we hid in the glass house,

bathed in the warmth;

cacti, ugly leather staring

from the eyes of needles, fine.

 

Stood in grainy earth, dry

desert, clumsy cucumber length,

you couldn’t resist

the itch to test the spines;

a drop of blood, blushing

on your finger, now in mine,

I want one

I could hear you think

I know it can survive.

DIVORCE – A POEM

Writing

The bed grows cold, a slab

Of stone so crudely cut,

Torn out from the gritstone

Rough, pulled apart from whole.

 

I withdraw, collapse, tuck

Shivering knee to chin,

Curl foetal, harness limb to limb,

They fracture, split my hold.

 

My arm stretches

through thick night, clasps

nothing but the albite light

Thrown down from foreign skies.

 

I weep for familiarity, fight

the rip of mourning tides, seek

to rise upon my feet,

And tread this great divide.

 

MY OTHER WRITING

 

POETRY COLLECTION – 20/10/17

Blog

I like writing blogs because it means I feel like I’ve written something useful, even though I’m 90% sure that isn’t true. Anyway, today I have started work on a rather exciting project that I’ve wanted to get done for a while; I’m writing my first collection of poetry.

The collection is intended to be a journey through loss, and I have called it, for now at least, “Laying down the bones”. Poetry can be an extremely therapeutic and cathartic release, and a lot of these poems will deal with various elements in my life that I find particularly hard to reflect upon/discuss, yet I am determined to stray away from the purely personal. I am aware that sounds slightly contradictory, so let me clarify; I want them to have a universal relevance, not just for me, so they’re taking a whole lot longer to write than usual. 

As I am intending on hopefully getting these published, in some respect at least, I won’t be putting them on here, but I am determined to keep you guys updated and I will be writing some poems specifically for the blog.

If you guys are working on anything interesting at the moment, tell me about it in the comments section below!

Happy Writing!

Fred x

LINK TO MY WRITING

THE DAY MY DOG DIED – A POEM

Writing

We map the ground,

Frozen hard as twisted bone,

Woven antler on father’s knife

That crests our fireplace

At home, waiting, violent-still;

We cast ash to dirt,

Watch it settle in paw prints,

Turned to stone, brushed by breeze

That used to roam

These hills, the grainy moors.

 

We sit around the fire,

Licking heat with orange tongue,

Crackled coals barking from

The depths of shattered lungs,

We coil into the armchair,

Vacant leather, fur still clung,

And wonder where the grass

Now is, that you bound among.

 

MY OTHER WRITING – HERE

 

 

WAITING OUT THE FROST – A POEM

Writing

Ground level, voided earth

Bound to streaks of coppered clay,

Open hands of branches

Robbed by seasons,

Morphed emerald lime to bronze,

Still to be stripped by frost

on the heave of menthol lungs.

 

A cotton tundra rapes

The blue, holds sunlight

Stuck in smoke, its hue

Hazed static, wedged,

Boundaries of sky and stone;

The valley clasps, constricts,

Pulls tight, a duvet for

A child at night

Without blankets of stars,

Naked as the morning dew

That seeks to wet the scars,

Retreating past the

White damask

That coats tomorrows heart.

 

MY OTHER WRITING – HERE 

NEW YEARS RESOLUTIONS (IN OCTOBER)

Blog

After my return from travelling, I had a long mental list of things I needed to change or do in order to get my life on track and achieve my aim of living beyond the age of 25; like most things, these are simply small adjustments to routines rather than monumental changes, as I find it much easier to adapt to a new way of life if it’s not too obvious how much I’m changing.

Firstly, I need to be healthier. I enjoyed the European lifestyle of wine, abundant food, and cigarettes, but my body didn’t, and thus I have pledged to eat healthier meals, run/exercise daily, and stop smoking. It’s actually quite encouraging writing this all down as it means I have the added pressure of keeping promises to you guys as well as myself, so thank you for being there to judge me. I threw my cigarettes out two days ago and currently don’t feel like throwing myself through a wall, so that’s a positive.

Secondly, I need to write more. After trawling through a few sites, I found out that I could write news articles and get some form of monetary compensation for them, so I now have a profile at Blasting News, which you can go to here. It would mean the world to me if you went and read a few of my pieces; I’ve written one about Saudi Arabia and women’s rights that I’m quite happy with, so check that out.

In addition to that, I have this blog for poetry, short prose, and travel posts, which I hope to continue to update on a daily basis, and my novel, which I’ve started to fully work on in recent days. Planning it has been quite fun and I’ve stumbled upon a way to make the plot so much more amusing than before; I don’t want it to stray too far into humour but I want to keep a balance of comedic action/depressing event; I’ve never particularly tried to be “funny” in serious work before, so I’ll have to see how that goes… I need to conduct a fair bit of research too, so I’ve had to send off a few emails and talk to a few people in order to set up a line of communication; I really hope this goes as well as I want it to, but I can only try my best, wait, and see.

I’d also love to get involved in some small scale poetry/fiction publications, so I have a few magazines I’m planning to try and get into, as well as a couple of online ones that have caught my eye. If you know of any good sites/great places to submit to (physical and digital) I would love for you to leave such information in the comment box below.

Anyway, I’m going to go and write an article about supermarkets wasting food instead of seizing the opportunity to help the homeless. I’m enjoying these little journalistic pieces; it’s a free pass to be as cynical and grumpy as I want (which might help with the lack of smoking). 

I’m working on something cool for here too, but that’s gunna take me a little while. I’ll upload some poetry soon.

Happy Writing;

Fred x

MY OTHER WRITING – HERE

 

PIXELS – A POEM

Uncategorized, Writing

Pixels portray an age of screens,

Vision envisioned through light

in flight from stars

long forgotten,

Projected are the neglected,

An emerald bosom bleeds

and weeps as hilltops burn to

scar the feet of those that learn

to yearn for peace,

They are whispers on the breeze.

Tarmac traps, grabs heavy hearts,

Soles of souls walk roads

that glow with golden

hopes promised,

Aspirations of a nation,

Instead young faces drown in fear,

Ears echo with the sound of jeers

that creep up closer ’till they’re near

to shape new paths and make it clear,

They are cracks of thunder.

Daylight draws a happy few,

Once idle eyes see skies of blue

they idolise the world they knew

from their age of screens,

blossom from the billboards

that try to mould their dreams,

and fly with might out of their plight

with truth so loud it screams.

SHORELINE OBSERVATIONS – A POEM

Uncategorized, Writing

Heartbeats of the coastline

waves echo

through the petals

of your skin.

Erode the rocks

the shells

the masks

in silent power, crash

white foam.

Under turquoise sky

darkness hides

in depths, unexplored

and drags like claws

across the sand.

Drown or swim

in moonlight skin

that ripples in my hand.