Poetry Drafts

My Meadow

Poetry Drafts / / By 
I called her Meadow,
Overgrown and left to
Her own devices, to her
Own Piper’s calling.


I called her Meadow,
Untouched for decades
Yet still flowering,
Persistence is never futile
It seems.


I called her Meadow,
In my mind her silence
Echoed between absent
Trees, beneath stars of
Comfort living.


I called her Meadow
In my dreams

Shades of Failure

Poetry Drafts / / By 
You may not know that
I share with you my inner
Being as truth be told.


You may not realise that
I share all with you
Keeping friends and family


In the shades, unknowing of
My achievements, unaware
Of my failures; ignorant of my


Essence


.

All Rise

Poetry Drafts / / By 
A serpent’s call to arms 
a mother’s cry for a missing child 
a onesie with floppy ears 
a murder unsolicited 
our truth much less beneign 
our freedom here on trial

windfall from the gods

Poetry Drafts / / By 
43278246a6f3a3ae8f89a9616e5b80bcf02093b9-3152392





Admittedly a mistake, I left the
Patio door wide open. The
Autumnal wind still full of
Summer brought the curtains to
Life; the dance of one brought my
Mind to a halt. Baffled I sat there
Wondering, where did it all go, the
Life now hardly remembered. The
Moments lost in the forest of
Wicked witches, the blossom honey
A windfall from the gods
Undesirable.

tiny wellies

Poetry Drafts / / By 
I was bottle-fed from the very start,
A parental shame at an adequate
Temperature. Just right to set, like
Concrete in my tiny wellies, just right
To shape the path that lay ahead.

Poetry Drafts / / By

smakkabagms:

the fairies no longer visit,

empty winds have ground the 

river to a halt

dreams churn like crude stones

among the bones of so many orchards

rue, now lipped to my wrist which

dangles a pale bone and withers

regret, my body

unfolded soft and drunk with silence,

consumed by the leech asleep beneath

my ribs           and somewhere, blunt

weapon 

the crushing failure of words, the sea 

a blue membrane of something secret 

and forgotten 

it is a chamber bloodied with the self,

the soul, broken instrument, fueled

by the illness of longing

what names do I call? Elektra, Kassandra,

the poor, embittered Helen

each garden I have loved but have never seen,

each fountain that will pass as my life passes,

and how one must slump

and stumble to guess at death’s constancy

so the willow paints its dark, whispy fingers

against the breadloaf of a heart, crushed

and repentant 

if only to glimpse, for a moment, the prayer

of between-world mist, fertile

and full with strangeness

When read out loud, wow; wow; … wow

Poetry Drafts / / By

trixclibrarian:

wondering if
the neighbors woke
the hens
noticing the difference
between being in
community
or merely a member
{fractal dickhead}
of the audience

wondering if

the neighbor’s woke,

the hens

noticing the difference

between being in

community

or merely a member

{fractal dickhead}

of the audience

She Wallowed

Poetry Drafts / / By 
She wallowed among the inbread.
Behind the shadows of sameness
She found no comfort, no reason
To refuel the depleted cells of
Vanity. His last touch had felt final,
Like an expectation of finding a
Bargain among the scraps, of
Something long lost; now





Rediscovered.
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