Monday, 27 June 2011

Pale Dew

Poems from Penistone Poets Anthology..


Her eyes deepened with curdled joy
seeping sadness towards the foggy moors
with the misty mildew trailing south
she danced and wandered along its vehement mouth.
'It makes me hurt
but I'll never give myself to you, ever,
come walk with me, over the misty fields
and promise me there
that you'll leave me be, forever.'

Pale Dew

I am not willing to breathe
you stand in front of me
the shivers sing
and bones hang thin
but oh,
you can't look at yourself
you're too weak to undress

I must have died to have begun

I come from within
from the depths of beneath
my senses inept, alert
I detect, a miserable
stench of folly

I find my way
although misled and unkempt
do I know who I am?

I know I come from death
unlaid and regressed
every part of me outstretched
wholeheartedly and repeatedly

Reaching for life, but yet again
by this tormented grief.

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