There is a quiet in the air I can almost touch,
And time poised at my fingertips,
And the world seems an odd kind of still,
A waiting kind of still.
Hopes of a tree – A poem
We tried asking politely,
Quietly, talking amongst ourselves
Hoping you’d overhear in hushed
Rustles, a subliminal message
In your ear (save us).
Always – A poem
Old lovers, old friends, had beginnings and ends,
But as my grip slips from the recollection, vines wind
Their way up a sleeping spine to twist into my sleeping mind,
Thorns hooked onto the memory, grown into a dream –
Becoming a dance with the familiar amongst the unseen.
Haunted house – A poem
Some nights make a haunted house out of a home,
when the midnight sleep silence leaves the awake on their own.
A phantom hand on my shoulder, a chill in my room,
or the faint scent of an oddly familiar perfume.
My favourite poems!
Hello! I’m going to be participating in escapril again this year, and I decided that to celebrate the almost beginning of that I would share a few of my favourite poems, and poetry videos. I am not going to be analysing the poems or saying why I like them because that would make this post very long, so all I’ll say is that these are all poems I always return to, or poems that have inspired me or had a notable influence on poems of my own…
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A dream caught by a thread – A poem
I awoke without thought,
Just blank in my head
And a dream still hauntingly
Hung by a thread,
Unravelling a deepening
Hole in my chest.
Made of Rain – A poem
I can’t touch the heart of the rain, it can only touch me
As it slips right through my fingers
Where a liquid hand can’t be held.
And the rain may have a beat but it’s too soft and quick
To be human and too rhythmic to be alive.
The rain never stutters or skips a beat
And I can dance in it but it can’t dance with me.
I can speak a soliloquy and pretend the rain is listening
But it can never confess a single secret back to me.
The rain may smell like a breath or a familiar comfort
But the rain is everything that has ever felt lonely.
Drunk on too much life – A poem
I have days lined up in bottles,
Hours pouring out the tap.
I fill glass after glass with minutes
And drink more time than can elapse.
Costumes of myself – A poem
Maybe tomorrow I will slip back into an old skin
To be momentarily reacquainted with
A memory, for the fun of remembering.
I will cloak myself in a costume of my past self,
Playing dress up in a skin and a mind once mine,
And the wrong-er it feels makes my new self feel right-er.
I will close my eyes and ignore the ill-fitting
Tight squeeze, stretched straps, and snapped seams.
For in a dance of vivid recall I remember: this,
This is what it once felt like to be me.
In Between Days (and other blackout poems)
These are a few blackout poems I have created, some recently and some from a little while ago. I like doing these when I want to write something but don’t want to conjure something from the depths of my brain. It’s also an interesting restriction to place upon one’s creative capacity, because there are only…
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Lauren Kathleen 