Happy World Poetry Day! It’s been a while since I wrote some fresh poetry, so I thought I would share one from the archives.Continue reading “World Poetry Day: A Waka From the Archives”
one refresh, it won’t
cost. Has it really?
Been twelve hours?
In front of a screen.
Just one refresh more-
Just one I swore
Wake up – next morning:
tiny poem I wrote when refreshing games of Battlegrounds last night instead of going to sleep x
Devil’s Lettuce by Mary-Jane (pseudonym)
Publisher: Independently through Amazon
I wrote this to get out my frustration after receiving my fifth publishing profession job rejection, none of which I was even successful in procuring an interview for.
I keep telling myself
that there’s no rush,
there’s still time –
that good things come
(and they will come)
to those who wait.
And keep on waiting,
when their cheeks
are stained with salt
and buffed by paper towels.
I’m low-key terrified of the future. I’m terrified that I’m standing still, caught in an immovable current, whilst friends and peers move in new directions and face new challenges, experience new things.
recent feels x
Drunk me wrote a lil poem about longing amidst a lock down x
written 5-10-19, early hours of the morning;
To think of you,
but to not be consumed;
to watch to feel to hear
the flames and the smouldering embers,
but only feel the lick of their (your) lips,
but none of the danger,
none of the burns of flamed fingers grasped
too tightly so that I can’t tell –
who’s doing this to me?
The smoke, or your arms-
who suffocates me more, smothers-
You burn quietly in the background.