the rosier barrier

Six

2011-11-24T14:39:00.001-08:00

Telling night-dreams like I wasn't there

This time we say goodbye in a strange light

There is squinting & hats

This time I'm crying: Don't cure my fear of thunder.

Five

2011-11-14T08:38:00.001-08:00

We can be like pillows of sand happiness

Dancing and moving retired monsters

Dunes through your daily motion

But only if you wanted

Four

2011-11-11T03:46:00.001-08:00

crashing now
it's harder than then
cut crosses and hypens

& whisper into mine
they're both the same
the insides the insides

birds and birds
we are wires and
our collapse

tarmac running
three in a field

A Poem A Day - 3. Tiny Tiny

2010-11-02T15:59:00.000-07:00

Mother mother turned to me she listens like cats with big eyes and tiny tiny
Gentle stirring, you try too hard & work too much be gentle gentle

Sitting there with your long blonde hair you look look certain like 75 ladies
Crouch by here & by her and tackle her long winded problems
She's only got you small small & other things //

Don't frown like that furrow smashing light bulbs into cross-chambers & &
_____suddenly there's not much since and after there's nothing really
God I miss you God I miss you God I miss you.

But only sometimes & then other ways appear and we run long handed
against the brisk and sharp & against the cold and dark

And little lights appear and we snatch them up like children
This is ours this is ours this is ours.

A Poem A Day - 2. Never

2010-11-01T15:05:00.000-07:00

I held your eyes today
because I thought it
was probably/definitely
the correct & right thing

to do

but it goes on too long
and you lose interest
_____craning and
jerking formidable little

we just stop here a
second because I/me
an, I don't really think
this is working, I/me

A Poem A Day - 1. Hallo Hallo

2010-10-31T14:36:00.000-07:00

I neglected you small_______

greater I forgot &

maybe I didn't care very much or maybe

smite / smote

feels like crumbling touch & outwitted by

a year previous

/year & a half

tickles

Throne in the saddle

flicker wick & tackle

head long _______

master plan in waiting &

& it's all alive again

sweating smiles & upper

fascinated by the ceiling

because it is so & so beautiful in comparison.

Sweet Little

2009-08-21T12:27:00.000-07:00

Little
you can't know I love flowers.
I give you _____biscuits to
calm your breathing & blowing
heavy sky-like birds

with natural smiles hiding
_________coffee stains & good frames//
don't save bad voices

You never took your time so I never
took the time to say good and other stuff like ________________________________bye.

If I called you Half-Wit would you
smile/clap/toss smart
constructions of music at me? Slash
point at scrapping cats.

Only half I know
is the girl to become
sweet sweet sweet little.

a load at once

2009-04-09T14:54:00.000-07:00

1)
-
I have been
asking like

wondering if white is really a colou r?

I know, I know, I'm
_______________devianting

like hollow pornography boot platforms
I am swimming in the water in _____one.

[happy but : not yknow]

2)
-

These creasing folds appea
r
like a brown line around my shoulders.
box like the fluxus boy
like other boys
I am 100 years old & facing
death
among other things
__________________like custard creams.

And plastic bag shoes.

3)
-
Wolf-whistled at by
death
among other things
_________________like bus drivers & lorry fuck wit
Googling my
death
among other things
________________like has Halle had botox & body
I don't want a tattoo for christ's
death
among other things
________________like Good Friday and pancake

-

Say some _______theoretical

fuck it I can't be ___

-

Spotting your hotpants from 60ft away
because they're bright
orange & you are
not.
Clogged up & dancing in the name of
social reform I'll listen Mrs_______ Ms.

I am confused by your small hat
& your also orange _______________organs
they are quite nice but also a little bit odd.

I think you are quite sexy but

(fuck it.

-
You are much COOLER than me,
Harriet Street,
You are the ___________coolest.

Discuss this name with other
users (while you

try and work out what kkfdd means.

03 & 04

2009-04-04T05:10:00.000-07:00

03.04

Experimental
Conical
Bra

I am like

-

"Sure, it was harder to dream at the start,

You are so darn cool _______Shoreditch
Twat,

tht I am beginning to dress up like

my
mother.

-

Harry's purple
___________jeans
are not
my purple
__________jeans

because we are entirely different
people &
his are not real.

04.04

Common Interest - byootie

We lacked the neon sunglasses that the other boys

________________wore.

I also lacked the balls.

"I

I think I do & more often do
__________________not

like boys more than girls because________

they have smaller brains and bigger heads."

-

I liked
frappucinos before
Alice stole my idea.

-

Don't steal my (the blades of grass are dewy
against my dry & crusty hands.

02.04.

2009-04-02T11:15:00.000-07:00

Burning rubber
__sandals
& other rubber things

I quite like your beard,
small old lady___
I also & maybe ever more
like your smelly coat (cat

Sucking a
dummy ___ left hand sided
Today

_________I have
eaten too much
pâté.

Sophie Robinson's Poetry Filth Month Begins...

2009-04-01T12:28:00.001-07:00

01/04

If____________ hurt
like - inside fibrosis

places we would
__(but still jitter

standing on one leg.

It's not easy__
Morris
dancing a three-legged
festivity.

Building Easter out of
caramel and
(____Golden f
& organ bland

Put Your Words Together

2009-03-25T09:21:00.000-07:00

A mixed bag of readings last night at the Roehampton student-run event, masses of poetry which was awesome for the side...

My poetry buddies Joe Stohlman, Harry Godwin and Lewis Basset-Yerrell all read, and I managed to take a few snaps before my phone died...

It looks like they're reading to an empty room here, but it was actually a pretty good turn out...

Nice chair..

See you at Openned, tonight @ The Foundry...

Holy Moly

2009-03-20T05:18:00.000-07:00

My fist ever chapbook arrived in the post today from the printers. It looks so cool, but then, I would say that...

Buy one for a £1! : )

Thursday Things

2009-03-10T16:30:00.001-07:00

This is a poem from my little collection which is being printed this week: Verbose Stage Dancing Plaudery

I've been invited to do (my second ever) reading on Thursday 12th March, in the Terrace Rooms of Grove House, Roehampton University. And I thought, seeing as I've been very neglectful of my blog, I might post a little preview : )

An Essay About Deviating

2009-01-27T13:39:00.001-08:00

Attacking the homophobia
demands a great motion, Peter Tatchell.
The globe that moves.

There has seldom been
a performance so virtuosic in political
expression. So often a
militant declaration, manifested
in an organic sphere.

Short Winter Poems For Short Winter Days

2009-01-23T06:11:00.000-08:00

-
This absence creates a war – My legs bubble I’m sure
with pips of post undoubtedly that my sh my sh my
short xmas trouble &

_____________________ that woman is staring at my ecstasy.
-
your swiss cheese plant
melts my heart
-
I have been standing at my window for Marble &
the last three weeks watching the sun-gloves stop my
go wondering why it would do tht why fingers tickling
4.30pm. & so I remember it’s winterrr loves or
& so _______________________ pulling
_____I shut up, Rebecca.____________triggers.
-
my botanical name
is a hot handed shame
-
If I am a hollow tree, then if I am a hollow tree then If I
am a hollow then if I am then I am.

If I am a broken record breaking hearts, and if I am a br
oken record breaking hearts and if I am broken and hollow
I would not tell you, or the ocean or a big red bus or
A bright yello taxi or any combination of lorries:
R e d y e l l o red yellowredyellored red yellowyello red yellow

Or if I am a smashed window then I’ll borrow tht, I’ll
Borrow. I don’t mind.

If I am a hollow tree then if I am a hollow tree then if
I am a hollow tree then I don’t mind.
-
a crash of pollen
ruined my Stollen
-
This absence creates a war, a sleek plastic leaf that
curls us up inside. I wouldn’t mind.

I crunch up my home-made home and package it
neatly in a Le Creuset casserole dish for one.
Shor, it’s fine, shor.

I Thought & So I Did, Love

2009-01-21T03:18:00.000-08:00

we are not always at the same time we
are not always in the same place so
we are often a little further than a handshake so
I offer my foot & that probably reached. I
am not always in the same food or sometimes
mood as you. I close something. I am
not always in the same crutch. So we shake.
Being lying down - as you might be now,
I lie down too. I am not always climbing
into the same pair of Levi's with you, we are
and not always climbing into bed with you,
you are too much out of here.
____oh strange and beautiful volta
____i am laughing at the same time at you.

Something Frumping and A Dumpling

2009-01-16T07:21:00.000-08:00

did you see this? this is a, this,
did you see this? this is where you
(isn't it odd to think that this is
blackness inside when there's all
this light around & why all the
colours in my stomach lining might
never know what colour is.
*
have you seen my eyes? they're
my eyes - they're not my best
my minds eye here and herr
with your heart or your mind or
someother greater essence? rr
your soul? where does that
come from? & if I had these
legs, as opposed to these legs
million dollar baby & crusty
with diamanté.
*
Will says he laughed, Tony smiled
& George nearly cried. the
old lady is making me grin and
smile at the same time as the
chinese man bows to her oddly
familiar Reebok Classics, where
her slender feet might once have
stood on little red heels with a
strap across the front
____________________& there's her
scarf & I larf. it's patronising but
a pint of Tommy Ts poured over
her artisically arranged (i powered
down the gym, (i plugged myself in
(i worked myself up (i hugged my
hot hands dry and sang
_______saaaaaaaaaaatnaaaaaaaaaam
because the white lady told me. i
can't see her aura, but she's telling
her headscarf radiates it by a million
more times than my flat blonde wig.
*
i sat and watched this...she with her feet
black and...I watched where the sun
laughed in their open mouths as they sped
like they were on motorbikes smoking
brillos of hot and sultry plumming priorities.
today is. it isThursday and it's nearly
Friday. Something swims in my shallow
Gaza intestine river (a stripper
slips a note in my tracksuit bottoms
and I think my membership must be
due. i realise I've got Russia in my back
pocket. you love it.
*
My boy talks about
Sexus, Nexus & Complexus like we
know what they are. we're staring
and exploding and some other things
happen but they're not as interesting so
I dismiss them as happenings and not
an artistic poesy blushing on my iridescent
nose hairs. watch:
(I hum a while. No tune, just notes) Dddid
you see them sparkle? and in doing that-
for you, just now-i am maddened, reddened
hardened (not like that. people think -
because I'm blonde,
__________________that I act stupid. but
that's it - i'm not acting.

Walking - Talking

2008-12-10T14:56:00.000-08:00

Harry’s just stolen a piano
So I’m walking in the other
Direction. Sometimes I squint
As my shoe soles – black
Tip-tap, tip-tap down
Where does the mud come
From, when there is no
rain? The sun shines when it
Feels like 3 degrees and
I’m so cold my heart might
Freeze to my coffee cup, I

Could’ve held that cup forever, but
Then – the use of a cup without my
Reflection in my shoes? Don’t, doesn’t
Match my coat the fact is I should’ve
Worn another coat.
But I’m warm when
The comfortable smack of the aroma
of the brownness of the hot cake. Brioche
with oceans of chocolate chips. And
a handful of sugar puffs. I’m really into
Sugar Puffs.

-

A girl with acid hair and all the essence of a small
Angry pin badge fallen from a distant-smelling t-shirt
In a mosh pit trampled by 200, is a 15-year-old’s
Self-conscious, unbroken Dr Marten’s.
I wear it,
I wear it. I wear mine with all the same wreckage you
Wear yours.

-

Everything on a line is here to help, if I were, say,
To put my neck on the line, hang up the washing
On a out-side washing line, drop you a line, online
Everything is online to help, not confuse.
But I saw a
Blog about men who wear tights and, I’ll be honest
Now, I do not get it “Mantyhose” There’s something
Wrong, there’s something so I complain about
Having a headache and missing the bus or some
Made up shit like that and then I sit on your chair
And eat a whole bread + butter pudding I made last
Night, wondering
How fat would I get if I only ate cake?

-

A girl she has fake auburn eyes to match her
Red PVC boots and lint-smelling smile. So
stressful I thought my nose started to bleed-

But it was just
Running. Because it’s
Cold.
I watch a hand move to her face and hear it.
mumbles follow waters and other things
I can hear she’s crying right.
Were you that girl, I mean
Was that girl you?
And I keep thinking how she must’ve gotten
Dressed this morning, how you might use a
Mascara wand with all those tears pouring out
Like someone else’s alarm, only it’s yours and
You never realised until the morning and by that
Time everyone’s already pretty angry with you.

-

There I am, so I wish that I am there, with my
Whimsicality and teenage smoke-filled hot pink
Mouth. With them, with their apartheid of agelessness
And satin eyes, I am. With something in my hands
And a dent in my thigh where my keys are pressing
Through my pocket. Your cheeks burning as hard
And red as the first cigarette.
I told myself today
That I certainly don’t smoke enough (Gauloises)
Or drink enough (Scotch) to be a proper poet. But
I’m told when you’re 21 and you feel like there must
Be some exception because I’m different and

Then someone asks for your ID and
You’re just a nobody or you hold a
Book and something maybe a baby
It’s holding your own brain and seeing
That actually, it’s ugly and gross and
Surprisingly full of grey, some black
Leather hole in the wallet of a universe

You Singular

2008-10-17T10:53:00.001-07:00

Beat. Bang heat hot one.
Lingering thing with a long long long
The beat. Beaten track thick and waiting. And waiting waiting long.
Birthday ribbon.
A
I am hot.
Me
I am hot
A hot one, bang beaten beaten.
On the track been beaten, been beaten on the track repeating.
In-trin-sic-ally.

Right that right that right song that wrong.
That try that one, that one, try that on, that bang, that bang
A a a a. A one. That is A a, a. A that is one.
A one, hot. A hot that is a. A one that is one that is one.
A small a small small, is all
Only one in a hot hole crowded by croissants and hot buttered small small, is all.
Only one one in a small crowd hounded by loud and fast in a hot buttered small small.
Who, and what one own, one on own, owned by none. On own is one and only. So.

It’s longer than one long long long like the waiting and the taking of the long line of a shallow one, a. the LongLong. Thick and sweet like a long wait in a hollow beaten track.
Smack like a long call in a large hall tracked in a long tall waiting waiting waiting.
So much to say say so much with waiting closed mouth hollow. Thick and sweet like a smack in the closed hollow mouth. Hot and follow with a flit thick like the sweet of a long track that beaten track. That smack in the long, long, long so hot so hot like this like love like a long hollow hole. No no no no role it’s a right much of a long tall waiting like waiting waiting like waiting. Here here hot and small like a hollow hole, with only this waiting waiting, filling smacked in the mouth with waiting waiting. Falling waiting waiting, here waiting waiting th- waiting waiting.

That Chair

2008-10-11T02:45:00.000-07:00

Because there are so many
Because we are so few
And the same, and the same, and the same, and the
Same, and with a coat, the same
one without.
And this. A red hug
a bed. A red bed. Hug the bed, all red.
Except the legs.
The squashy, the the bouncy wealth.
the wealth, that bounce.
The same same same and the same big and
same big and the same and the same
big red hug.
Like the one with the coat, but without it coat.
And the same's not the red bed hug.
That's the way, facing towards
facing away
facing the same way not towards not away.
Facing in a big red
a big red bus. Small, no bus.
Amputee, four, without facing away.
Little amputee
like a hug in a haystack
not stacked.
Without the arms so the arms can't be stacked
without the stack so the stacks can't be arms
without the stack so the arms can't be arms
without the arms so the arms can't be arms
without the arms so the arms can't be stacks
stacks of arms, arms of stacks in the hug in the
haystack like an armful of hugs and an
armful of haystacks like a haystack of arms
Without the arms so the stacks can't be arms.

Walking Up Escalators

2008-08-18T06:27:00.001-07:00

On the tube
You're one of two -
You either don't
Or you do.

Viagra

2008-07-07T09:06:00.001-07:00

Resigned from all clubs. The birds were singing thought,
all problems can be solved. Can't we falls throughout the
year. Earthquakes occur nearly stanzas. They have the same
feasts once a quarter permit me to speak my mind, i think
i could be exactly, hastings continued. That's precisely
not thought out the answer. She turned towards but suppose
i go into school and say, who sunk thick together, dish
the head, and put the sauce be a vein of nobility in the
man, after all, that t, t, thought emily· one has to it's
all very many ghosts, or else squatted down in rows beside.

While

2008-07-04T07:08:00.000-07:00

The waterfall
has no
edge, no
points, and falls
dismissively
eternally
into a universe
of cousins and daughters.

People you once knew.
Let it fall
uninterrupted, the first
birdsong
and all of the things
that build
beauty

Dewy spirals and blades
at your feet
always.

Nice...

2008-06-08T10:24:00.000-07:00

This came to me... Well, actually, it came to Tim. But I stole it.

Schmooes, abe! Morris cried. The fiddle ain't the crowded
hall before him. The uproar of his suppose you're quite
a great lady in these parts eh? now liquor, and close on the
head. 2. Pare them and representations on the subject, while
they were and the hallporter helping me up here. I say,
i thought it was very delicately done. Very delicately heard
what sounded like the mew of a kitten, just.

Green Eyes

2008-05-12T14:17:00.000-07:00

where i keep my

treasure -

don't tell -

locked in a black sooty

under-

stair-

well.

lockets, fumbling, Abba, the Cote D'Azur,

a ticket,

all there, The

key?

Hidden within the sweating folds of my silken

blouse.

morse code it, my

rapunzel costume

sits like a trap to scare thieves away.

between my broken

sobs; is

the call for my baby, my palms,

poured into 10 by 12.

baking sun, nor lonely moon

not for anyone's eyes.

[Again, alone, or]

fingers, coal

ridden.

across my blue

eyes, my pale

white

face.

Powder-black,

velvet-streaks, run my cream

silken dress, tickle my peach

soul. Blind dark.

and it's gone,

in your feral, many arms

my chest -

treasure -

love -

through your dirty children, colour

my paper photographs, muddy

my special dresses, rip

my love letters. Parade

the streets

aside my shattered window.

in my eyes, sacrifice

i watch.

blood

puddles around my sensible, vanilla

sandals.

2008-04-12T16:01:00.000-07:00

Sometimes it's

glass ankles, glass

jaws, copper

kettles, warm

floors.

Tricky fingers, happy

feet, saying

grace, eating

sweets.

Rotten apples, little

toe, seen you

somewhere, making

those

amazing pieces of lace, like those ladies did with their shawls wrapped around their heads.

My Mind: My Eclipse.

2008-04-06T03:22:00.000-07:00

As the rain falls, it pats my pink face.

I remember that this is not the time,

nor the place.

I hang up my weary, yellow, jacket

and my dead sunglasses.

Realising

I am not just a sweet pair of arms

nor your play thing.

But something upon which to unload

your wares, your muscle:

A hammam for sweating bodies;

A mat for muddy shoes.

Far more than being your

pretty picture.

More troublesome than a

Lone Soldier.

Greater than Love,

Greater than Sorrow.

Instances of Abbreviation and Joy - R. Rosier

2008-04-02T10:57:00.000-07:00

Perhaps you are too 1234 for me.

Perhaps I treat you like 5678.

Either way

you have been unified.

Uniformed, with the intricacy your

mother first dressed you with, with a tear rolling down her foundation cheek, and her hair curling with beads of salty sweat. Black and stuck in locks. Her heart racing and her shaking hands outstretched.

This is how you became.

A Minifauvinelle. April Fool.

2008-04-02T10:47:00.000-07:00

Listening to the empty rattle of my broken breath.

Asphyxiated by the surprise that

I can't remember where I left myself.

Woken by the flicker of something laid to rest:

Watching without my eyes.

Listening to the empty rattle of my broken breath.

Someone else wears out my socks and my shoes,

not marking the pathways so

now I can't remember where I left

myself.

Tickled by a glimmer of something left -

A nothing I can almost trace,

and still, the empty rattle of my broken breath.

I retreat to another, further twelve,

counting and counting again.

But I can't remember where I left myself.

Bright red blocks of a better living death

I hear the empty rattle of my broken breath

I can't remember where I left myself.

When I was just a little girl, I asked my mother, what will I be..?

2008-03-14T07:10:00.000-07:00

One day we see that no-one is in control.

And we shake uncontrollably,

and laugh unconvincingly

at things that are not funny.

We take the pills.

Take a prescription, antidote

they widen your eyes and your throat.

And you feel your brain float.

106. In a Station of the Metro, by Ezra Pound

2008-03-13T12:33:00.000-07:00

It would be so stupid not to include this somewhere in my blog, as it is the single most provoking thing I've ever read, as Blake wrote in his 'Proverbs of Hell': "One Thought Fills Immensity." Here it is, that one thought...

106. In a Station of the Metro

The apparition of these faces in the crowd;

Petals on a wet, black bough.

Ezra Pound (1884)

The Highest Form of Flattery

2008-03-04T10:29:00.000-08:00

One at a time

Then both together.

The second and the minute hand

simultaneous

in the movement

one minute

one second

past twelve. A

fragment of a movement

light reflected on a strand of hair

Rolling clouds

through rotting windows

pass over

poppy fields.

Wistful,

as a sweet wrapper

roly-polying down the street.

Once removed

Separated

Kept

as an old puzzle.

Still belonging!

And still,

the pieces fit together. Both together as a

remembered child.

And When I Was Juliet

2008-02-20T13:38:00.000-08:00

And the end only

marked the beginning of something new

And the end only

made me realise I was a figment

And in the end

you had your head shaved

you just said

"I had to get the Romeo out of me."

Only

At that time

I clung to the star

I'd hung around my neck

And wished it was as easy as

shaving your head.

My lips had turned into my eyes

it sounded to me as if I were water.

The past

drifted along like a bag without its contents

blowing in the wind.

And in the end

I only really told you anything

Through the window

so you couldn't hear

It's easy to scrape

finger marks down the arms of your chair,

but it's harder to admit

you miss being everyone's idol...

Even if you weren't.

And in the end

who was I?

And the end only

showed me I didn't know myself.

And most of all, most of all.

The sun went to sleep

And when I woke,

I was not the star I'd planned

And in the end

I was the moon,

reflecting someone else's light.

Do What You Do

2008-02-12T08:52:00.000-08:00

WIth my arms flung about myself, and all the wish to leave alone.
Today I sat in abandon.
Making hearts in the sand with my hot finger tips
How I sat, in my September dress,
Just left of the summer, when the days grow longer and broader.

How he strummed his finely tuned guitar,

Hidden in two.
All the light in his eyes and his soft warm touch
And the pads on the floorboards.
The lifelessness of your sleeping corpse

2008-02-01T03:39:00.000-08:00

A toast my

love

To something we share.

Stamping in glass slippers.

Something

2008-01-24T10:35:00.000-08:00

I am a

leaf, opening up.

Like something

I am

almost saying to you.

I am the

heart murmur

like someone

who is

too afraid to shout.

I am the

candle twinkle

because someone

blew me out.

I am that

broken window crack

I am the

wind that whistles through.

I am a

sorry girl

with my hands behind my back.

Sincerely, Your Friend and Lover

2008-01-23T14:55:00.000-08:00

This is just something little...

I wait for him, my stone

he makes me.

Tremble the fire against my skin

I will wait for him.

Rain drops and you are my eyes and my limbs

You draw me.

listen pathways done

he will see.

Locking your door and your heart and your fingers

resting them on your chin.

Cracking that smile but then

takes a while

Sometimes I can't see the wood for the trees

sometimes I can't hear the birds for the bees.

the birds and the bees

and the bees

Write me a letter for once,

sign it

say something, whatever

anything you like.

Answer me.

Your friend and lover.

I can't stop the leaves falling from those trees but

sometimes I can't see the love for the greed.

I can't show you how.

I can't see for looking

I can't see the wood for the trees.

I can't always say what I mean.

Your Friend and Lover.

Sonnet From The Nineteenth of Christmas

2007-12-20T02:19:00.000-08:00

A Free Verse Sonnet

You're Crooked

You are

- - 1, 2, 3

your crooked smile makes me

melt like an ice pole in mid July

Sunshine. Or a

Twister

2, 3,

omniscient?

You know,

all knowing.

You know what I

want and

You're beautiful, too.

3, 4, 5, 6 [fine]

7, 8, 9 [ok, 'nine']

Double Dactyl

2007-12-07T14:08:00.000-08:00

Otherwise known as Higgledy Piggledy...

Here's my attempt...

Terrible Journalist

Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake,

Jennifer Anniston,

Suddenly visited

Horrible Farringdon

Socially studying

Microbiology

Turning the tables on

Canons of medicine,

Truly increasing her

Marketablility.

It's all good fun!

Sun On My Hair

2007-12-07T14:01:00.000-08:00

This is new today, I wrote it for class to hand in with my portfolio, but it came out really naturally and I enjoyed writing it! So I thought I'd share...

My copy of Watchfiends and Rack Screams

Dog-eared and dirty in the corners,

Sits atop my digital decoder,

And under a birthday card from my Mo

ther.

Through my window and across my room

Beats the sun on my hair.

That frame, hand made,

The sequins from a pair of old satin

shoes.

The figures, my family,

Although they are not my relatives.

Behind the photographer, and past squinting eyes,

Beats the sun on my hair.

Good day, green tea

Yoga on the lawn, that sound, drifting

Of you plucking the metal strings

And my voice to our

songs.

That day I bought new shoes,

And you said they were lovely.

The smell your freshly laundered clothes

And the sound of the busy Parisians.

The slit in the too-short curtains lets a in tail that licks our covers and our faces,

and through it,

Beats the sun on my hair.

2007-12-01T06:29:00.000-08:00

I would usually not use a rhyming form because I don't really like the restriction, and English is not the best language to rhyme in! But all the same, I've written a Villanelle...

Is this how you wanted me to remember you?

My wasted effort, my heart and my sleeve

Isn't it odd to think we once were two?

To think of all the ways I knew

that we would fall apart and I would grieve...

Is this how you wanted me to remember you?

It's a dream to recall the motions we went through

It's a dream to reenact the ways you'd leave

Isn't it odd to think we once were two?

All the words you'd say, all the things you'd assume

I do not hate you, but I do not believe

that this is how you wanted me to remember you.

And then you gave me that certain, sullen cue,

I knew to remove my possessions and myself, retrieve.

Suddenly, it's odd to think we once were two.

I do not know you, although somehow, I do.

And alone, you see the things you see and live the way you live.

Is this how you wanted me to remember you:

To think, isn't it odd to think we, once, were two?

A Guide on Manliness

2007-11-29T14:35:00.000-08:00

My first post is a poem I wrote today...

Although, it's a found poem, so you could argue I didn't write it at all..!

At last one was to see; the measure of his impressions was to be his

artillery officer, just as whether or not a flower bed shall get another

And the British Expeditionary Force was still intact, still an army

an illustrated paper recently I saw a drawing of some guns emplaced.