We snatch light from the jaws of darkness, only to find it wet – and salty. Do we recoil in fear now, or grasp it tighter; snuff it out now, or blow it brighter? Advertisements
The Nature of Gothic What does it want this cool stone span this bridge on air what does it ask of us who come here asking it our questions who move round its roots our voices lick the silence of its vault our prayers make currents stir in the tall air that asks us to… Continue reading Fiona Sampson
today, when she woke up, she rubbed her eyes a little harder. overnight (or so it had seemed), the mists had rolled in, ethereal yet real, muting hues and dulling voices. “from whence did it come?”, she wondered, studying her hand, its edges blurred. descended from Afar, or leaked from our collective pores? it’s not… Continue reading shrouded in mists of our own making
a bated breath; a pin not yet dropped; a gasp unreleased; a moment frozen in time, suspended before noise. a cry suppressed; a call unheard; a crumpled figure; a doubt, for you are a figment of your imagination. a peaceful content; a soothing caress; a grin, a wink, a pout; an empty moment filled, with… Continue reading What’s in a silence?
today as cashews and walnuts and pine nuts and seeds lay still on the warming pan I sat and wondered at an earth which shone and rained – at once – at the spider whose web hung in fragile existence between a window and its sill a futile folly to keep them together a foolish… Continue reading spiderwebs and toasted nuts
how do you outrun a shadow? if it seeps like ink, or sticks like tar into and onto your skin rip it and bleed the dark away and of the bitterness in the back of your throat? outrunning a shadow might be easier
15th April Prompt: Write a poem about markets. Nose crinkled, she wades through wet fish; haggling housewives into Sainsbury’s. The scornful disdain of local culture in favour of The West. Yet it is but ignorant worship – Sains is just an ordinary supermarket, no worthier of your starry eyes than your neighbourhood NTUC.