it’s cold over here by the quiches
i pull my shawl tighter
around my shoulders and
as someone steps just a bit too close.
the bread aisle is full of choices
i’m sure there weren’t
so many types of loaf
when i was young.
in the fish aisle i stop and stare
my mind switches to a frequency
aligned with the hum of the refridgerators
and i lose myself momentarily
in its gentle buzz.
the world outside is loud but it is morning
and the shop hasn’t yet been invaded
by screaming children and toddler tantrums
and life-tired workers at lunch.
“beep” says the machine as i feed it my card and
“beep” as it replies with my receipt
stuff in bag, i schlep
out through the whoosh
of the automatic doors
and back to the world beyond.
swallow the stars
glow from the inside out
as the pain of what you’ve done
spreads seeping through your body
filling your veins
with excruciating light.
the sky dims dismal
over a washed-out landscape
harrowed, its holes fill furrows in the earth
and in the distance something cackles
the sky is
the fields are sometimes, too;
it is England, after all
view upon view, an expanse of
dusty hues –
the sorts of colours you might find
locked up in an attic, unused
the world is hard today
but there is still
there is still a person smiling at a stranger in the street
still the trees of summer wafting in the breeze
still the light of a warm golden evening slanting through the park
still dust motes dancing in its wake
there is still
^^^ hit play ^^^
Unless you don’t like Barbra Streisand, in which case go sit in a corner somewhere and only come back when you’ve thought about what you’ve done.
Not loving Streisand is blasphemy, y’all. Streisand is QUEEN. So actually, maybe it’s treason. Or something.
Anyway, this post isn’t actually about music. It’s about skies.
a butterfly is beautiful when floating on the wind
you look at her and yes, she makes you smile
but if you try to hold her down or trap her with a pin
she’ll either fly away or she will die
More poems at HelloPoetry
I’m currently going back through my notebooks to update my reading list. I have notebooks dating back to when I was twelve, so this is quite an undertaking.
‘Notebook Scribblings‘ is a series of posts detailing what I find.
As the plane came in to land,
I believed I was descending into the very gates of hell;
The mountains circling the area jutting like a devil’s jaw
Waiting to swallow us whole.