An interesting one today, seeing as how I can’t usually write long lines to save my damn life. It actually made me think about how I’m writing and how I probably need to diversify my style a little bit. So here’s my attempt:

LDR

You say good morning as the clock chimes midnight.
I’m starting work as you’re clocking off for the day.
This distance, darling, is us personified –
too far apart to touch but touched by him
across miles, through the frenzy of pixels and
pictures on computer screens.
Skype dates are our forte; left longing by our
dear friends distance and loneliness.
Time is inconsistent. Long nights are long days
and vice versa and the words on this page
are for us. For you. For the empty space
in our bed; built for one, used by two.
There may come a point where we can co-exist,
cohesion of rings to fingers but for now it is
this; the icons of internet sites flashing
another “I miss you” message.

So this isn’t the first time I’ve written a poem like this. If you cast your mind back to the Almanac Questionnaire challenge, I did something similar then. This one, however, comes from a series of Catechisms I’ve been writing in my spare time based on some of the ludicrous questions I’ve been asked since coming out. Enjoy:

Who Hurt You?
I fell and scarred myself countless times

Who hurt you?
Sticks. Stones. Words, words, words…

Who hurt you?
A hailstorm of childish fists

Who hurt you?
She pinned me down. Silenced my “no” with a kiss.

Who hurt you?
I grew up believing I was defective

Who hurt you?
They set fire to the rainbow flag

Who hurt you?
Everyone smiles as they twist a knife into your back.

So I used the borrowed line from a poem by Andrew McMillan, ‘Strongman’. I’m using it as the title of the piece and then riffing off of it from there. Hope you enjoy:

Not Even A Minor Greek Would See As Fit To Sculpt

Us – in pieces,
viewed through
bedroom window.

The bronze of your skin,
marble of mine.
Cast here –

against the wall.
Call the piece
‘The Beast with Two Backs’;

study in love’s absence;
unwanted coupling.
Make show of this –

his back against
unpainted walls.
Mine to you

and feeling flesh press
to groin in drumbeats –
the same way that

a hammer beats
out metal until it can
never been seen as straight.

So I took this idea from Carol Ann Duffy’s poem ‘Drams’ which is a sequence of Haiku all surrounding shots (or Drams) of whisky. This one I wrote around Christmas and used Mistletoe as the conduit for the poem, so each Haiku represents a different kiss. Enjoy:

Mistletoe

First one; full throttle –
all tongue and rough, roaming hands
desperate for more.

Next; peck on the cheek
from old flame turned firmest friend –
reminded of us

as partners in crime
when we kissed with more passion;
a flame long snuffed out.

Third – the cute one from
work; flirting is a weapon
best wielded by me.

Then, friends from uni
at Christmas parties. Flavours
and textures plenty.

This one – both taken
but unable to resist the
temptation of lips

and eyes locked – perfect
prison for long kept passions;
our secret now, dear.

Last is the best – him,
the lover’s lips at your neck
before sinking deep

into wilderness;
into the deep of it, losing
yourself to longing.

So, following on from yesterday, I decided to stick with Grecian myth and my problematic obsession with the God of the Sea. I’ve always been fascinated by Poseidon but let’s just say I don’t think he’d make for a very stable long-term relationship (as hopefully explored a bit better in the Sonnet). Speaking of which, here it is:

Poseidon

What is it to be in love with the sea?
To feel the rough caress of the
Aegean; the cool bronze of a trident
against my skin. To have hours spent
among the coral, down in this bed
of weeds with him – my beloved
God. Feel his hands crossing the map
of my body, caught in his riptide trap;
in this maelstrom of sex and madness,
suddenly longing to be free of this.
Even the raging tides can be possessive –
clawing at the skin to, unable to forgive,
to grasp the scope of his unwelcoming depths.
I’m passing out from holding my breath…

So since it’s Earth Day and we are honouring the Earth in some form or another, I figured I’d take something out of ancient history/myth to honour; The Aegean, and by extension, Poseidon. Enjoy:

This is how you saw me;

another lost boy to be used

and I fell for it.

For the same

tired lines, tried and tested

lies.

 

You still smelled of the sea –

of salt and sand and paradise

and I was hooked on it.

A boy once more,

learning to love like

Gods do.

 

But that was long ago –

before the temple, the shouting

and I cheated.

Escaped your

clutches for one night, slight

relief.

 

And you still claim to want me;

be yours, be the lost boy you met

and I said nothing.

This was not

what I wanted. It was no longer

Paradise.

 

So I ran, swam for the shore.

Longing to find a new bed to frequent

and I found it.

I lay awake

terrified of the sounds of

the Aegean.

 

Kennings seem to be best written when they are about people so I chose the most obvious one; my boyfriend. Hopefully I’ve done him justice. Enjoy:

Maths-explainer
Passion-giver
Gaming-partner
Fantasy-lover
Show-watcher

Beer-drinker
Care-giver
Sense-talker
Magic-player
Star-gazer

Essence of perfection
is my lover.

So, this was something I’d never even heard of until now (or at the very least, couldn’t remember). I knocked around a few ideas in my head while trying to get words down and nothing stuck because, as it turns out, I’m not that great with concrete imagery. However, I persevered and here we are:

How To Lose Someone In Ten Steps

1 – Be a spider. Lock an unsuspecting victim in your web.

2 – Shower them with affections. Watch their fall from their chests into the “safe-keeping” of your hands.

3 – Tell them how much you need them. That they are Oxygen to you.

4 – You fall in love, or at least pretend to. You fall into their bed.

5 – They plan for the future while you sit listening with a tight smile.

6 – You start to get possessive; to treat them like property. Pressing them into the crushing grip of your palm.

7 – They ask for favours you never complete. Your affections turn to spiteful barbs.

8 – Things become tense. The fingers of violence clawing at your throats. The remote control flies through the air like a song.

9 – The break up; they leave, you fake tears. Everything is broken except your murderous smile.

10 – Find another blue-eyed boy. Find another victim to ensnare.

So I picked a number of books from my shelf which I will list in a later post. I couldn’t make them cohesive enough to be a proper poem so I have worked the titles in with a few linking lines that I’ve had to write myself. Enjoy:

Playmate

Let’s be exposed
like imagined sons –
begging for it;
to get physical.
To feel the crush.

Now you’re here in the dark,
just let me be
obscenely yours.
Let’s burn together
like a thousand splendid suns.

We’re both a
necessary evil, love.
A prelude to bruise;
to using up the synonyms
of our body thesaurus.

The silent creed we follow;
worship me – I can be
your own rapture
if only you choose
to let me in.