Making sense of the world with words
This poem needs little explanation. I’m sure many people can identify with this feeling – the slow, cold realisation that you are losing someone you love:
Would you care if I left,
Would you be bereft? Would you cry?
Or would you sit dry eyed in despair?
Would you? Would you care?
Would you flood the lands with your tears
…
Some meetings are more memorable than others. Some are even worthy of a poem:
Deep in the Welsh mountains where revellers reeled,
We met in a rowdy and colourful field,
In a white Stetson hat, beside me he kneeled,
He was hunting for treasure, I was too, it was sealed.
…
There are so many poems written by men lusting after women. Traditionally, women are almost always depicted as the passive objects of desire rather than active or, god forbid, enthusiastic participants. It feels like a good time to start redressing the balance:
This is not love this is lust, she should have said.
I trust in my body far more than my head.
So, forget such tender feelings and come to bed.
…
A riposte to Andrew Marvell.
I’ve always loved Andrew Marvell’s lusty poem ‘To His Coy Mistress’ in which he shamelessly seeks to persuade a young woman to acquiesce to his carnal desires.
But I have also always felt it deserved a response from the young woman’s perspective – especially given it was written in the 17th century long before birth control or feminism – so here goes – enjoy!
…
Heartbreak, well, where to begin… It is something most of us will experience at some point in our lives and indeed, unwittingly inflict upon others. But until you do experience it in its fullness, it is impossible to imagine how excruciatingly painful it can be.
Everyone has their own unique tools for dealing it. For me, writing was one of the few ways I could confront and start to make sense of the hurt and pain bound up and raging inside me.
As my younger sister observed: “Heartbreak, bad for the heart, great for poetry.” And, on that cheery note:
Life in poems 