Tag: poetry

poems

burden

by heather anne10 Comments on burden

when I met you
I thought you were nice enough
we could help each other out
a casual friendship
such as you’d have
with your favourite barista

but since having the unfortunate opportunity
to get to know you better
I realise that
you’re just fucking annoying

so misguided is your over-confidence
I loathe every single second
that I have to bestow pleasantries upon you

with every smile on my face
comes a vibrant thought of disgust
though you’re too thick to realise it

oh, sorry.
I don’t mean to be a bitch, it’s just

Unavoidable dislike leaves such a bitter taste.

poems

the roaring

by heather anne8 Comments on the roaring

it roars in my ears
hollowed out by ungrateful sentiments
given rise by prolonged hibernation
through a muted winter

somewhere through mischievous cracks
summer is breaking down concrete walls
skipping over spring altogether
greedy in its ambitions to thwart
to consume until it has dominion
no more me-
only it

a serpent famished, starved
hungry for its next meal
slithering over organs
taking them hostage

coiling through blood
white cells crushed like feathers
beneath smouldering boulders

I am washed over in its image
powerless against its frightening ardor
shaking, I will carry out its desire

I sit here- a once benign spark
atop a tank of eager gasoline
waiting impatiently for ignition

Anyone got a light?

poems

air to breathe

by heather anne14 Comments on air to breathe

Alexander.Yakovlev

I met a man once.

When we got to talking he asked me what I did.

I told him I’m a dancer.

“Neat” he said, and then “What do you really do, though? What are you actually going to do with your life?”

If I can’t dance, then I might as well die right now, I said to him earnestly.

I don’t think he believed me, for he only laughed and turned away.

After he left, I began to notice my skin was turning cold, crackling, and threatening to fall apart….. it had been too long since I had moved. Even that short conversation with the unbelieving man was too grand a pause, too much time away from dancing.

So I ran as fast I could and leapt, flew through the air, wind catching hold of my hair… giving myself up to my life’s purpose. I felt the warmth return to my skin, my pores brimming with satisfaction, maintaining seamless balance. It was as though finally I had provided them with the air they needed to breathe.

I think I may have landed sometime after, I’m not sure.

In my heart I’m still flying through the air…

Photo Credit: Alexander Yakolev

poems

scarlet

by heather anne11 Comments on scarlet

Exuberant red painted on bare legs
blown away by wind
and unveiled into monstrous petticoat.
Heart protected in chest
held sternly by a corset
classiness offset by dirtied undershirt.

Walk across the road and
grab that handsome man,
make him mine.
Now he’s yours?
Oh, right.
Tomorrow he will be for someone else,
or not even be at all.
Good. Now cut.

Sit,
here’s
some
food.
Not hungry?
Eat more.
Drink more water.

Stop,
let’s touch up this
and that.
Her too fine hair
unhinged by a rapid breeze.
Again.

Stand still, you are a
benumbed rag doll
waiting for perfection
to be stitched
externally into her body.

Might be a while,
may as well go mingle
with the other dolls
where laughs lurk in stranger’s faces.

How long has it been?
Ten, twelve hours?
That will be all for the day.
See you again,
maybe,
someday.

If you’re lucky.

poems

noisy lambs

by heather anne8 Comments on noisy lambs

hustle into the bus like lambs
out of confinement
sent packing, in search for
infamous greens. lustre and articulate
engine roaring
wolves covetous for
unsung flavours and flaunted sequins.
fresh on the hides
though undeserving and ill equipped to defend.
engine blazing
trepidation powering
muscled legs
…..yet never go anywhere.
rooted instead, limbs fusing into
the dirt like weeds given an
overflow of life’s energy.
inability to distinguish personal thought
from the incessant baa baa-ing
the panic which drives-
are they sent away yet?
of course not, set
muttering ambiguously so that
the wolves
cannot
reach
and disfigure our
freshly combed wool
our neatly painted faces
our tuned up voices
humming soft melodies
for lovers to follow

Instead-
Just stay silent,
and hope to be led to quieter pastures.