Pale Dew

Poems from Penistone Poets Anthology..

Reverie

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

Digress

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

unrecognised

Reaching for life, but yet again

deceived

by this tormented grief.

Painting by myself, for the cover of the book.