Iced Air

I like to taste each drop of iced air trickling down my throat,

Savour all the melodies carried in on the ancient wind.

I like to wish the coolness into my skin,

Feel the textures coursing through my pumping, purple veins.

I like to feel my heart beating against my heavy lungs,

As a sluggish second lengthens,

And I let go of the breath I took from the sky

Pouring them back into the silky breeze.

I like to enjoy how it feels to breathe.

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Catch the Tangles

Billowed darkness emptying itself in sheets of steely rain
She caught up with the moment so her head could catch the tangles
But still she whirled away because the stutter of the weather
Metronomed into her brain
The window trapped the swirling iron clouds but still,
It held reflections of the flick’ring spineless suns that bathed her empty coffee shops
In whiskey light just after dark.
She tapped a rhythm on the glass that caught up with the dancing drops
To let her fingers flutter aimlessly upon the cold pane with the hot rain
A quick, erratic pace that halted at the jagged edges of the seam
The crack, the tear in double-glazing that had ripped all time and space
It seemed.
Her hasty heart pumped her limp arm into a rippling blow
Sending shards of spinning rainbows waltzing under drips and drops more than three-four
And letting in a waterfall
That entered drop by faithful drop
Til laying in a pile of fractured light and fallen stars she learnt to sleep
By just feeling the thumping of a bright-red beating heart
And drinking up the static air that whispers through our lungs
She felt a drop of slow, soft, silver rain before the tranquil curved her mind
Stillness tasted much more sweet, memory and thought left far behind.

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Where I’m Meant to Be

“I’m not lost”
The pocket with his keys in has viscosity
Its heaviness incalculable, metal leaking through the fabric of his jeans
He lives as a link in clanking chains
Slumping boys with rucksacks known for breaking backs
The never-ending train that runs the twisted tracks
“I’m not lost, I’m just on my way”

Smoking chimneys pump the sky with lead
Leading troops of teens with ego, pride and gall crowning their heads
But goal in mind, he trudges through the sludge
Of melted keys and dreams running in silky streams
Bronze and silver intertwined with whites and creams

“I’m not lost”
He lifts his foot to tread in faded footprints
Misses, falls onto his face and into beer and breathless kisses
He lives as a worthless waste of space
Or so he thinks, in between hangovers and cheap drinks
His tired boat overturns and slowly sinks
“I’m not lost, I’m just out of place”

With salted bones he drags himself to shore
Weakened and overcome he now knows what he’s looking for
The man that stands dusts off his knees
To join the journey of the long and solemn train
And feels his rusty heart groan into life again

“I’m not lost”
He hears the tinkling laugh of jangling keys
Takes one hand from his heart to reach between the shredded seams
To his surprise it fits the lock so perfectly
And there open the gates to somewhere fresh and blue
The man prepares to greet the ones the boy once knew
For then he felt the leaded clouds dissolve and sun break through
“I’m not lost, I’m where I’m meant to be”

Based off the prompt: “There are only two stories: A Boy Leaves Home / A Stranger Comes To Town”
Prompt Credit goes to poetry podcast Destination: Detour on YouTube

I haven’t posted in a while, stupid real life has got in the way of my writing, but I’m feeling funky and fresh and up for some real all-nighters when it comes to my poetry right about now. I’m really happy to be able to post something for everyone today, so just saying that I’ll be getting back to posting regular poems right about now. I mean, I’ll slow down again when it gets around to my January mocks, but that’s far far away for now.

Happy writing! ^_^

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My Boat Rocks

My boat rocks.

Coarse and rough oceans shake the tides,

Saltwater slamming into the sides of the creaking, tearing vessel,

Its threat to tumble me into the stormy blue,

My boat rocks.

Winds churn the writhing waves,

The drops of frosty rain stream down the aching, ever-rotting wood,

And my hands clamp to the sides, white-knuckled,

My boat rocks.

Roaring into the echoing hollows of my new bones,

Here the heart beats its fastest,

A stomach-flipping twist to scrape my nails across the sea.

My boat rocks.

As the sea rips cold fingers from splinters,

The clouds are slit by rays of gold sunshine,

Buttery light glistening on warm waters,

My boat rocks.

A cloud above me, reflected below,

Boards beneath my back that let the water lap,

At the sides of a boat that rocks gently.


My boat rocks.

But it can’t drown me.

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Luna, Stella, Sol

When Sol began to shiver, breathing thin and cold

She felt the wrinkles of the day becoming old

And with her fingers cast a glittered, cobwebbed spell

To let her saffron light disperse to vivid gold


As Stella clawed the fabric of the fading light

Be-honeyed Sol was sinking into warm twilight

And Luna donned her calla lily dress, and rose

The dance of three that brings the day to cold midnight


So Luna laid her lips upon the dusky sky

And with her breath painted the world with dark blue dye

Then Stella made the sparkling pinpricks in the dark

Each one a tiny spark, a lonely world on high


And so the night embraced the weak and fragile earth

Our saviour, Luna, holds the lives that we are worth

And Stella gives us time by sewing in her stars

For Sol to now prepare herself for her rebirth


And Sol reached up and made the inky sky fluoresce

Luna untied her phosphorescent, pearly dress

Stella tore down and ripped apart the ebon sky

She let her stars scatter – a warm and twinkling mess


Our Sol displayed her beauty and she lit our world

Her eyes were stunning and her amber hair was curled

She stole away the lives from Lady Luna’s grasp

And up into the sky our lovely Sol was hurled.

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Thin, Pallid Skin

A cold stone weighed down his chest.

With rattling, trembling lungs

He whimpered out his last few breaths.

Through his thin, pallid skin a heart beat slow.

Each thump shattered the earthbound rock.

His soul wrenched itself from its chains,

Leaping into the heavens, but

Dissolving in the burning acid rain,

Leaving a fragile shell

That crumbled into sand;

The sand that fills the unforgiving deserts

across which warm feet walk.

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To Vivid Night

She woke up to a single glowing sun.
The tightened bounds of sleep became undone.
Her steps that fell towards the Earth were young.
The dew of life so sweet on her dry tongue.

She stumbled into something like a walk,
To write a name in pastel-coloured chalk.
If it was hers, she didn’t know or mind:
It was the only name that she could find.

Her feet had swung themselves into a sprint.
Her eyes had gained a subtle, honest glint.
Excitement lit her throbbing veins in red.
The falls she felt were only in her head.

And knowing she was low she let him in.
Her eyes were dry, her patience wearing thin.
If nothing else, he was a hand to hold,
Until she found that soul gleaming in gold.

She let herself bring others to the fight.
With all her love she pushed them to the light.
She helped them write their names in dusty chalk,
And brought them to their feet to let them walk.

The others slowly left her one by one;
Each loving daughter, then each caring son.
The sunlit sky began to fade to grey;
A twilight in between the night and day.

The sun and skies had watched her spirit drain.
Somehow, she knew she was alone again.
Her wistful, honest eyes were shining bright,
But soon her day would turn to vivid night.

She settled by a single setting sun,
And watched, and smiled until the day was done.
The soul that leapt into the skies was young,
Her last sweet breath now silent on her tongue.

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