Poem 26: OBLIVION

A knot so tight,
Stuck in my throat,
Words of delight?
I laugh out of spite.

What do you want?
A familiar face now foreign,
Lost for meaning, judged often
By eyes that see sound, softened.

Mind so clouded,
Thoughts rushing, crowded
A parade of vivid dreams,
Strangely cheerful it seems.

Even maybe strangely sad,
Most considered it tacenda,
Broken sky leaking into meridian,
It fills us, the infinity of oblivion.

Poem 23: PUZZLE

The final piece missing,
Sunshine on her skin, kissing
Stardust stuck under her eyelids,
Humanity lacking humanity,
But I guess that’s just what life is,
Capable of destruction and terror.

The final piece missing,
Old songs on repeat, reminiscing
A chaotic goodbye, as we die inside
But who needs compassion when we have pride,
A child bride, cried
In a village that turned a blind eye,
I see humanity lacking humanity,
A reality Without any morality.

The final piece missing,
Maybe if the moon smiled,
And the world would listen,
To the sweet birds singing,
Flowers blossoming
Children laughing and playing,
Maybe then we will break our bubble,
And find love, the final piece of the puzzle.

Poem 22: TRANCEPARENCY

I howled so loud,
As they buried me,
In the cold wet ground.
Time fitted that into a palm
Distance brought distance,
In unison, so calm
Harmony, transparency,
I feel your pulse,
With such clarity,
Many masks we all hide behind,
Don’t forget eye for an eye
Will make the world go blind.
Deception, betrayal, dishonesty
The lack of transparency,
Hold me,
Beyond a skin-deep sense of self,
There’s a depth of rasasvada unusually elysian.
Make a decision,
Watch an irenic mangata
The moon reflecting on the sea
Peace simply asks for transparency.

Poem 21: CONTROL

He would join his daily coma,
On his faded old sofa,
Just like clockwork, tik tok, tik tok,
The alcohol, streaming his veins,
Tied down with ropes and chains,
I am sorry, he cries as he explains,
All the broken promises obsessively he maintains.

I stood still in my corner,
Terrified,
I stood still as days became weeks,
Weeks became months and years,
Time passed uncontrollably,
I watched and learned his behaviour,
All his techniques.
I saw empty bottles broken, so lovely,
Face pale, and drained, so ugly,
I never saw him come home early.
Until one day, he never came at all.

I’m in no need for a climax,
After a sensation of alcohol,
The trick is to relax,
I promise it’s my last drunk call.
The world is black and white,
Sometimes a little in between,
Mostly smells like piss in the alleyways,
It’s far from a pretty scene.

My hands are wrinkled,
Eyes barely see,
Hair is now grey,
But am I really free?
Time has caught up,
I am old and grown up,
Turned into my alcoholic father,
Like father like daughter,
No point in regret,
Because I can’t just pack,
And pick a time to go back.
Funky smell, jukebox, neon lights,
Vodka soda, with a bit of lime,
One thing we can’t control is time.

Poem 15: TRANSITION

The fear of change,
Newness consuming eternity,
Intrigued by the obscure,
Ponder but endure,
We are merely lost in transition,
Seeking for a bit of sanity,
Yet without a bit of fantasy,
It’s all a tragic calamity.
Blossoming petals, greenery,
The spring equinox’s allure.
A touch so warm,
Skin discovering skin,
Lips exploring the universes,
Hidden behind every scar,
Sometimes a cry,
Cigarettes put out on a child’s arm,
A tear drops from a dark brown eye.
We all grow old,
With time hearts become cold,
Eyes look lifeless,
Ears are now deaf from the silence,
You slur your words, my love,
Once again you are drunk,
My lips are the wine,
But I fear, this is all a great sin,
Don’t worry it is all fine,
We are all merely lost in transition.

Poem 6: MOTHERHOOD

A wildlife full of magic, filled in her belly
Let us embrace the wonders of motherhood,
A gentle breeze blows onto your skin. Steady.
The comfort of relief, the smell of berries and oak wood.

Her features are soft and delicate,
Yet, a fierce struck of thunder in her eyes,
The voice of an angel, almost heaven-sent.
Isolation, dull flowers, nature finding life. A pale Sunrise.

A mother knows when to wrap her arms
Around her child, in a protective gesture.
Kisses away the fear with love and charms,
It may cut straight through our core, with a feather.

A poem written for the isolation of Mother’s Day. A celebration for my lovely mother and all mothers around the world, these are hard and difficult times, yet you’re holding on to life strong and keeping us safe regardless. A massive thank you to you all.

Photo credit: Prue stent

Melissa Johnson

Poem 2.

We fear death for its unknown future,
Our names being picked from mid air,
We cry with the silence that surrounds us,
But we just can’t accept,
For the thing that’s no longer there.

We never really learn the lifespan of a frown,
Or how many years after a heartbeat stops,
Ones name will be found,
In conversations that are of our past paths.

But now I speak to you,
Don’t stand in front of my grave,
Staring down at my name,
With a face so sad
It makes birds mad.

Where were you,
When I was alive?
Where were you,
When I would thrive with life,
So bright it would blind every eye.

Now I speak to you,
My dear old friend,
Your soul hurt, cut and bruised,
From the pain I chose to give you,
Yes, I’m amused.

I confess forgive me,
Because it was me,
I slit my wrists with a knife,
While I smiled to god on my knees,
I smile because I know,
That life is the art of dying.

Poem 1.

I was once a cruel soul,
A cold hearted sucker,
Once a master of deception,
Now the victim for the better,
As I tangle in this complex universe called life,
Drown in the blue of the oceans in your eyes,
Yet, I believe I am drunk writing this,
Though it does not matter,
As I can no longer hold this urge,
The urge to kiss you,
Because I may be drunk tonight,
But you are beautiful,
In the morning I will be sober,
You’ll still be beautiful more than ever.