Weed/Rose (28/5/15)

I am a weed, and she is a rose.
But it was I who felt your fingertips upon me
You pulled me out:
Not to destroy, but to keep.

But from my pot on the window-sill
I can still see her
Blooming in the sun while I
I am in the curtain’s shadow.

My leaves only wilt and droop
While she blazes like a crimson heart
In the middle of your garden.
I only have one question.

Why, oh why, my love
Did you pick me
When you could have picked her?

Dear Sylvia Plath (25/5/15)

You were well-educated
You were brilliant
And you were promising.

My pen runs lines under your words
As I search for an answer.
Thirty-one years separate your end
And my beginning
And yet you knew.

I cannot spin verse like yours
Though my whole heart aches to try.
But I do not need to tell him
All the beautiful ways in which I love him:
You have already done that for me.

And when I cannot move from my sheets
Because my mind is filled with grey
I do not even have to wonder.
I know you felt this too.

When I look down at my own words
And tear them into pieces
I know you felt this too.

When I tasted death in a quiet room
I knew you felt this too.

But my eyes opened to a new day.

You didn’t feel that.

You were never useless
You were never indifferent

And you were never middle-aged.

Scoundrel for a Princess (5/5/2015)

I wrote this super quickly (in like ten minutes) at a Creative Writing meeting. It was meant to be an adaptation of a scene from Star Wars into poetry, and I picked one of my favourite parts of The Empire Strikes Back. (Just realised I could have posted this yesterday but never mind.)

You’ve always got to be the cocky one.
God, I never thought it would be like this.
There was once when I could not stand the sight of your face
But now, I’d give anything for time to freeze
So it would be all that I could see.
One fleeting moment
They’ve surrounded us but it feels like only you and me
Only you and me in this city of the sky
Only you and me, and I don’t want you to die.
Maybe this is just a test
Maybe it’ll be alright
Maybe you’ll come back to me.
Maybe the next time that I hear your voice
You’ll be the one to say I love you
And I’ll be the one to say I know.

2.37 AM (5/5/2015)

My mind is clear.

There is silence, but, as I arise
My feet boom on the carpet.
Every shiver on my skin
Rings like a bell in the still air.

When the sky is dark,
My thoughts are bright.
Those creatures of creativity
Must be nocturnal.

Too cold. Crawl back into bed.
I think about my life and love
And I can almost feel how much
My heart wants to burst.

My thoughts are spurning novels.
If it was evening, I’d pick up a pen.
Everybody feels like they could do anything
When they’re awake at 2.37 AM.