Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts

26 April 2025

NaPoWriMo 2025 (part VIII)

Days 26-30 of NaPoWriMo

Sonnet

In soft refrain, these syllables fall
From gasping mouths, and in between the pants
Of husky breath, whispered words will call
And urge the other in this sensuous dance.
Astride and unashamed, your body moves
To unheard music playing in our minds,
While in my chest, my beating heart approves
The grand legato of your limbs entwined.
With teeth and tongues and arching spine, and now
The bold staccato of your fingernails
Embedded in my flesh, I think I know
How symphonies your every sense enthral.
Here in the dark, the colours of our song
Illuminate the love that now has grown.


The Great Red Dragon

If only they knew of the hell we have become,
And all the varied sins that overrun.
Where here, that evil takes its faceless form,
His stance is wide, his muscled legs are strong.
Leathered wings about him are outspread,
And fire rings a halo on his head.
Though monstrous large, his agile tread is light,
He steps upon the crescent of the night.
In the clutches of his sinewed tail,
A lady lies prostrate; her face is pale,
Her hands are raised entreatingly in prayer,
All around her flows her golden hair.
The dragon is the essence of her fear,
His beauty and brutality is clear,
And though his darkness o'er the scene is flung,
The woman is still clothed with the sun. 


Love is a Sin

How can love be a sin?
That flutter in your stomach
When they walk into the room, and it's like
Sunrise
A soft, warm glow.

How can love be a sin?
The feeling of bravery
As you stand up, finally, and declare
"This is me"
And always has been.

How can love be a sin?
The slow, deliberate dedication
Of nurturing yourself, for every tomorrow.
Peeling oranges
And the tang of cheese.

How can love be a sin?
The comfortable satisfaction of knowing
That your family, by blood or bond,
Will fight
Beside you


Eclipse

I step quietly against the tide,
The hubbub of the waking world behind me,
And all around is blue and green.
The shadow of the moon wavers
On the ebb and flow, night within day.
Seaweed tendrils wrap around my ankles
And just for a moment, here in the sweet still calm
I surrender to the idea of eternity. 
But the moon shifts
And the clouds drift across the sky
And the waves grow cold against my skin.
The sharp cry of the gull is echoed
By a foghorn from a ship on the horizon.
I return to this waking world,
But try to hold within me
That moment 

22 April 2025

NaPoWriMo 2025 (part VII)

Days 22-24 of NaPoWriMo

Muchness

When they say "You are too much"
They mean "You are too much... for me"
Find those people who will celebrate your muchness,
And encourage you to celebrate theirs.
Cheers, it's Thursday.
Let's go to the beach - when - right now.
Barbeque smoke and the strum of a ukelele.
Crap films and cinnamon buns and laughter.
The hugs that last just a second longer
And "I'm bored at work, send memes" messages.
"I heard about your dad"
"This postcard reminded me of you"
"Your favourite biscuits were on sale
    so I bought three packets"
Philosophy over laundry
And let's get drunk at 4pm in my living room.
You are never too much for me,
You are community
Family


Dawn Chorus

In peaceful early morning moments of
Dusky blue, before the sun is full
Awake, there comes glorious from above
An opus of orchestral bird call.
The cheery chaffinch chirrups in the trees,
His pink throat undulating with his song;
A restless wren is flirting with the breeze,
And trills his tune above the growing throng;
Within the hedge a pair of blackbirds play,
Bold and bright, their voices carry far;
And dainty-footed, dances there a crow,
Who joins in with a loud and laughing caw.
As the sun is brightening the morn,
Each one is the essence of the dawn.


DIY

The slip-skid of stony substrate,
Metal tines ting, and fling
With force coarse sand and cement.
I grit my teeth, and grit is underneath
My fingernails, the gloves improper for this use.
I think back to the silent sweep 
I knew, plumb planes of plaster.
But this nasty noise, this schwing and clink,
The itch and fizz within my ears
That grows and grates; my hands abate
And pleading, pass the trowel to my
Waiting husband, his ears less tender than mine.

21 April 2025

Forgotten memories

The thing they don't tell you about grief is that you forget. And I don't mean those brief moments of silence before you open your eyes in the morning and reality comes flooding back.

I'm talking about how that person wasn't part of your day-to-day life anymore so you're used to their absence, until one day you see their name in your phone and you realise you haven't messaged them in a while, and it takes a second to remember why.

My sister died four months ago. I mourned her. I don't know if I miss her. She still exists within me. I will forget what her voice sounds like. She is one third of my childhood and no more of my future. I still cry for her.