February 2012
8 posts
3 tags
Dropped stitches
You are the dropped stitches
That my prying needles
Struggle to retrieve,
Only to dig a hole deeper
Than the one you left.
So when this is complete
You’ll be able to pick it up
and look straight through
The holes, to know
What I’ve lost, and
What I’ve tried so hard
To pull right again.
Creative Writing Course
Today I began my creative writing course. It’s worth 10 credits towards my fine art degree.
I was so happy to meet our tutor. The main reason is because he says he is obsessed with “place and space”, the same way that I am. When I look through my poems I’m sure over half of them have something to do with home, or have some kind of an analogy involving houses. I...
4 tags
The Butterfly Crossing
Down my road,
Take a right turn.
You’ll find the place
I call the butterfly crossing.
The road is cobbled
Double yellow lines are
Painted crudely,
And there are four
Wings of road, leading
Off in different directions.
I cross diagonally.
I always look down one
Of those wings,
Towards the barbican
Where I can see
The sails of boats
Proud against
The sea and sky.
I feel the...
I always seem to be appologising
But the truth is, I never want to write here when I’m feeling like this. I don’t want to annoy anyone. I’m going to the doctors tomorrow about everything. My last problems began just like this and I don’t want it to escalate into something that gets in the way of everything I have right now.
I’m sorry I haven’t been writing - I really am… but...
3 tags
No.
I’d sooner
They burnt
Than see them
In the hands of someone
Who would cast the pieces aside
Like parts of a ghastly and incomplete jigsaw.
2 tags
Just a House
It’s never just a house.
And it’s never
Going to be alright
If I can never climb
Those stairs on hands and knees
And look out my landing window
And remember everything.
No-one will ever understand how
It is never going to be
“Just a house” to me.
My Old World
I’m going to miss every
Wall and corner of that place.
Every box of a room
I used to shut myself
In and cry. Every
Hole in the curtain
The curl of a piece
Of dusty wallpaper.
I will miss the creak of
The landing hallway,
The yellow of the bulbs
That outlined my door
As I tried to stay awake.
I will miss the decorations
We chose tenderly from
The local B&Q, I will
Miss...
Anonymous asked: Hello, are you alright? Havent heard from you. How was your night shift?