Poetry

You can now search for your favourite poem.

  • the love she gives

    the love she gives

    the love she gives she was the kind of womanthat burns through youresting within your woundschewing petals of a marigold flowerand spitting them onto your fleshhealing you with the touchof her sadistic fingersshe’d pull you in to sinkbut she’d never let you drownher nature won’t allow itbut perhaps you willlet yourself fall, knowingshe won’t be Read more

  • the daughter of Eve

    the daughter of Eve

    the daughter of Eve ‘Born under The Apple Tree’ she braided her hair in sin picked apples from trees blissfully watching how they’d drown in gin she bathed in their nectar and shed her skin layer after layer shifting into a spectre she licked the bones of the rib of her becoming those unsanctified Adam’s Read more

  • shattered

    shattered

    the glass shatters falling down effortlessly as if it was always meant to be wrecked to form ambiguous fragments of a million tawny blue eyes blinking under the April sun she covers these eyes by walking across the room scrunching and smudging the colours of blood orange red with dust particles of a broken golden Read more

  • a gypsy

    a gypsy

    He asks me straight forward,fist clenched, ‘Why did you choose him?’I take his hand, loosening his grip,and answer: ‘Because I had to save him.’His hands turn blue ‘And? Did you?’‘At first,’ I smile, ‘but then, he chose not to be saved. Not by me anyway.’‘Hurts, doesn’t it?’ he sighs, ‘I would have never left you.’‘Darling,’ Read more

  • her house

    her house

    it was a househer housethat imprisoned hershe watched the people come and gopassing through like touristsnever stoppingshe watched their peachy facessmelled the sun rubbing on their skinfelt the weight of their bones on her bodyshe let them wreck her homebefore scrubbing off the remainsof someone else’s fingertips on herand every room on every floorspotless when Read more

  • cutting oranges

    cutting oranges

    one. two. three. cutting oranges in half grown in green gardens of the citrus Tuscany ripen in honey  – cloying grin washed in sin four. five. six. steel sliding through hands turning blue faster and faster a drop of blood glints on the orange skin rotting from within seven. eight. nine. night by night by Read more