Coffee & Cake

Posted on by estlh

Writing poetry can be a funny business. Inspiration can come from all sorts of places, and often a few lines will come to me when I am in the middle of doing something entirely unconnected to writing. This is why I am never more than a few feet from a notebook, and if one cannot be reached then the voice recorder on my phone comes in useful. At night I make sure my notebook is on the bedside table open on a blank page so if inspiration strikes in the night I can jot it down without turning on the light, (and just hope I can interpret the scrawl in the morning!) When it comes to actually sitting down and writing one of my favourite places to do this is in a coffee shop. With a sweet treat and a hot drink I can sit and write to my hearts content. And when the words are not flowing I can people watch and let my imagination tell me the stories of those around me. At times I will write something from scratch, but often I will use one of my notebooks or voice notes as a starting point. But just because I originally wrote a few lines or phrases inspired by X or Y, that does not mean the poem I actually write has anything to do with X or Y. It is not at all uncommon for the poem I end up with to have very little to do with what I was inspired by in the first place, and for the poem I write to comes as a bit of a surprise. Often something innocuous and unextraordinary can lead to a deeply personal poem. Poetry can sometimes feel a bit like opening myself up and letting my bare soul fall on the page, which is why not everything I write gets shared!

Coffee and cake, paper and pen

Thoughts pouring out of my head once again

Into the light of the stark black and white

No longer hidden from my own sight.

Forced to acknowledge what I would ignore

I knew this would happen – it’s happened before

I try to write fiction, to make myself smile

But unpleasant truths escape all the while

Sat in my seat watching people unwind

While I pour out the disquiet of my mind

And yet though this poem was not my intent

The words express all that inside me is pent

Releasing the tension, unwinding the coil

Freeing the ire that within my head boils

And so by the time I at last drain my cup

Unburdened, I pack up my pen and stand up.

Secrets

Posted on by estlh

I generally don’t like keeping secrets. Thankfully most of the secrets I keep revolve around birthday presents, surprise parties and the like, so are short lived. They are also the good kind of secret, the kind that you want to tell because you know the reaction will be positive.

But sometimes the knowledge we keep hidden is heavy to bear and we want to lighten the load by sharing it. Much has been written about how keeping secrets can be bad for our health. Occasionally however, the secrets that we keep are not ours to share.

I wish you had not told me that
I did not want to know
But now that I possess the truth
I cannot let it go
My heart cried out ‘this cannot be,
It can’t, it must be lies
But from your face I knew at once –
I read it in your eyes

That scene now stuck in my mind’s eye
never to be erased,
Delivered to me such a shock
It left me feeling dazed
The Nightmare that now plagues my sleep
And interrupts my rest
Have been my night-time company
Since to me you confessed

And all the while the shame of it
That should be yours not mine
Now Haunts my every waking hour
As if by your design
You have made me your companion
In knowledge of this deed
And I can never now forget
I never will be freed

I would I could just run away
The dread of it to flee
But no matter where I go
The truth will follow me.
For all around is tainted now
My illusions undone
The world is a less pleasant place
Your cloud obscures my sun.

I would you had not shared with me
The burden that you bore
For now I find this secret binds
Us two, for evermore

Corner

Posted on by estlh

I am a dreamer. I dream often and regularly remember bits, if not all, of the fantastical tales and crazy adventures I have during slumber. The weird and wonderful worlds I inhabit whilst sleeping can be a rich source of inspiration for my writing whilst awake, and I keep a note book beside my bed to jot down anything I want to hold on to. Sometimes when I look back at them my night-time scribblings make no sense at all, but once in a while when I check my notebook I am amazed at the insight or poeticism I find there.

A few days ago I had an unusual dream, even for me. Instead of being in the dream, playing ny part, I was an observer. And as the scene played out before me it wasn’t live action it was a black and white cartoon, all rough drawn and jiggling. I can only remember a very small part of it but it was such a striking visual images that it inspired a poem.

I can see myself in the corner
In a small stark patch of light
All couched and folded inwards
In a world of black and white

The darkness that surrounds me
Is slowly pressing in
The fear of it constricts my chest
I feel it chill my skin

But flickering, and glorious
A white light comes to shine
And rages ‘gainst the darkness
In this corner small of mine

So sensing something easing
I dare to lift my head
And see the light expanding
And catch a glimpse of red

I can see me in the corner
In a growing patch of light
All couched, but less uncertain
In a world of colours bright.

Moment

Posted on by estlh

Life is made up of moments. Some we barely notice, some we would rather forget, and some we will never, ever forget.

One fleeting moment
Gone in a flash –
Too quick for me to catch
Yet I will hold it forever
In my head
and in my heart

For in that instant
There was
Nothing
Else

That perfect moment
The look of purest raw emotion

In that fleeting moment I saw
Love
That would last a lifetime

Betrayal

Posted on by estlh

Sometimes I am quite deliberate in my poetry writing. Sometimes when I start to write a poem I start with just a phrase or couple of lines and have no idea where it is going to go. This was one of those poems, it wasn’t really until I reached the last verse that the pieces fell into place.

I took my lover to the sea
Where I made him beg to marry me
I grasped the heart he proffered me
And flung it hence into the sea.

I took my lover near the sky
And made him look into my eye
And swear to love me til he die
Then I did poke him in the eye

I took my lover atop the hill
And begged to know if he did still
Love me for sufficient thrill,
I threw my lover down the hill

I knew my lover was not true
And felt the sting of trust eschewed
I did what I had to do
To heal the heart he’d rent in two.

Day 5

Posted on by estlh

Today’s prompt required a bit of time travel – going either into the future or the past to write from the perspective of someone on the brink of a life changing event. I have recently been reading The Mirror and The Light which has inspired my setting, although I cannot be sure the scene I envisioned is an accurate depiction of life in the 16th Century.

I am not yet ready
In time I will be
But time, I have not enough
The guests are assembled
The candles are lit
There has been much bustle and busyness
Many hands bearing trays of finest produce
Have borne more in one morn that in the past sennight

I am not yet ready
In time I might be
Yet not today, not so soon
The tables are laden
The feast all prepared
The clatter of wheels has told me the tale
Of many kin bearing gifts of richest treasures
As would befit the auspicious occasion

I am not yet ready
More time is requisite
Yet time I am not allowed
The servants attend me
The stays are bound tight
There has been much arranging and fixing
Many hands shaping this” finest of ladies”
to be the fine wife of our noble Lord

I must now be ready
The time has arrived
The time I would halt if I could
The fanfare has started
The doors are flung wide.
There has been such anticipation
Many Lives holding to what this day represents
I must play my Part, Obedient submission

Resolutions

Posted on by estlh

Today’s prompt was to write about my resolutions. I don’t tend to make resolutions as I am no good at keeping them so I went in a different direction.

I could resolve to give you the world 
To capture the moon in a jar 
To swim the vast wide ocean 
No journey to you too far 

I could resolve to show you the world 
To offer it all on a plate 
To fetch you your heart's desire 
No obstacle would be too great 

I could resolve to offer the world 
In hope that you'd open your heart 
If I were to offer the heavens 
Would you then play your part? 

I could just resolve to be honest 
To tell you the way that I feel 
To let you know you are Loved 
The truth of my passion reveal 

What then would be your resolution 
Will our futures hence intertwine? 
Or will you resolve to dismay me 
I pray you will not be unkind

To the Grave

Posted on by estlh
Photo by Jill Dimond on Unsplash

If telling you will make it true, then I will hold my tongue.
My story never will be writ, my ballad never sung.

If looking up into your face my eyes would tell the tale;
Forevermore my lids be shut, my mask must never fail.

If through my deeds the truth will out then, needs must, I’ll be still.
The revelation must be stopped, so stifle it I will.

If, to the head against my breast, my fool heart would betray;
Alone, unloved, without a friend, I’ll live out all my days.

And when my solitude is done, my penance at it’s end,
I’ll open wide embracing arms and greet death as a friend.