March 24, 2012

Poetic Past Blast

Hola guapies!

Well, I shouldn't really be posting this as I am supposed to be in the kitchen. Gots me some pork belly to cure, some empanada to bake, a risotto to prep and some strawberries to slice. However, an old pal of mine got in contact in the last few days to tell me that my blog was his 'essential weekly read'... man I love it when people say nice things to me. It makes me want to bake them cookies. This friend is also quite dear to me. We were in the same English class at school and even though we weren't the best of pals or anything, I always felt like he was a kindred spirit... like a brother, but without the blood. He moved away one day due to a family tragedy and I thought I'd never see him again. Then, lo' and behold, four or so years on, I was miserably plodding across the university campus in sad tears as my heart had unexpectedly been savaged outside the library and then, there he was. Walking towards me with a big smile on his face! Hoorah for Joe! That was a lovely surprise and after that I had the pleasure of working with him on my final theatre piece, which was about our dark secrets; the true, twisted stories of our lives.
Anyway, it turns out from his email that he likes to write, too. He kindly shared some poems with me. I'm hoping he will continue to send me things! I love a good read. They reminded me that I used to write poetry, too. It was nothing profound but as I am in the middle of writing an epic blog entry about something else, I thought I'd show you a trio to keep your attention.
That's the thing about blogging, once people encourage you, you feel like you have to write! That's a good thing though... good for me to practise and entertaining for you to read over a cup of tea.

I wrote these bad boys when I was 21, in 2007.... ah, such a tender age!


Under the apple tree they lay

Curled up cosy like caterpillars

Wound up like worms

Cloaked by the gentle hue of

The lanterns he’d lit

Like they were trusted old friends

Watching over them

In the quiet orchard

Dusk gave way to night

And the wind grumbled on by

As the clouds rolled

And wrung out misty tears

On the breeze

Like a sigh of relief blowing

Through the quiet orchard

They whispered so softly

Like children sharing sworn secrets

That the crooked trees creaked their branches

Stretching and striving to capture their words

Creating shadows on his kind face

As they touched

In the quiet orchard


Your fingerprints are all over my heart

Burning and hissing like seething matches

Your fingerprints are all over my face

Boiling my blood blistering my body

Scalding pink my white skin

Your fingerprints

Where your lips left my mouth

They have branded steaming

Your baking hot imprint of flesh

Sealed with a kiss

Raped with unbearable heat

A marriage of scorched weeping skin

Your grip is at my throat

Strangling and searing

Clawing my neck

Taking my skin like writhing maggots

Under your fingernails

Taking me with you

Take me away

Take me away with you


You died without me Grandma

You woke with a start from seasons of slumber

While I was yet dreaming in my bed

You began to cry

The tears that came were for fear

For your children

And for the last lost years of your life

Clarity broke through the senility

At once there dawned a light

As you reached towards it with outstretched hands

It again surrendered

You gave way to a cloud of sleep

Cloaking you so heavily

That you drowned in its vapour

And slipped gently away

Like a sigh of relief

The sun shone for you all morning

Just as you had always sung to me

You were my sunshine

You are my sunshine

You are now the sunshine I see

In my rainy grey days
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