Fiction and poetry writing, recapturing the muse.
20:64
Foreign breath of fresh
air, its taste forgotten
after stale and safe
confinement. Do you
spy visible disease above
your head, or ignore it
to gulp down more
sweet, sweet freedom?
20:65
Watch through windows
painted with rainbows
as the people beyond
admire their bare skin.
Content smiles stroke arms
that flake and disintegrate,
back into the earth
where it all began.
Clap your hands
beyond the glass,
multi-coloured thoughts
viewing a world of ash.
In preparation for my master’s course I’m researching two possible poetry collection ideas, and the more unusual one is poetry with music. Not lyrics, or poems about music, but a poem performed live with a musical instrument. I remember going to an event that had storytelling with music years ago, and I loved it. Music helps set the atmosphere for words so well, and I’d love to write a collection based on this principle.
I played guitar at school, and still have one, but would have to re-learn a lot to play decently. At the moment I’m just trying to find examples of poetry with music to start with. If anyone has any links, please send them my way.
So far, a perfect example is this live performance:
20:63
Scattered presences
amongst allotted
parking spaces. Tense
faces as eyes
measure distance and
safe areas. Empty
aisles reveal human
nature as full
cupboards mutate into
cockroaches, scurrying
and alive while old
bones litter our
legacy. Hard-earned
homes become prisons,
trapping the present to
save the future.
Inside I cough and
fear approaching mortality,
hands spread out
to the blurred world.
My life and reason
watches, eyes lost,
as my vision darkens
the world and its wonder.
Panic of the unknown,
of reality, grips and
latches onto the last
moments of life.
Reaching for one last,
bone-crushing, love-
defining hug.
Am I selfish enough
to ask it?
Are you desperate enough
to accept it?
Well, I’ve written a few poems over the last few days, but got distracted before I typed them up to post them. I’ll try to be more constant from now on. The topic is mostly corona-related or about isolation, but I’ll try start exploring my two poetry collection ideas in preparation for the masters course, to add variety.
So, I’ve had some good news within this scary, uncertain time the world is going through. I’ve been offered an unconditional offer for the Creative Writing Masters at Leeds Trinity! So I’m going to try focus on ideas for a poetry collection, and I have two ideas (which I’m sure I’ve mentioned before). The first is fairy tales with a twist e.g. The prince in Cinderella having a foot fetish. The second is writing poems that are composed with music, or rather music composed to compliment a poem. The idea is if you were performing your poem you’d have the music as part of it.
Like a lot of people I’m currently not at work, so I have at least three weeks to focus more on this…as well as get some decorating done. I’m having a few days of laziness then expect me to be more active on here.
Stay safe everyone!
20:61
Morning of despair
turned optimistic after
a moment of passion,
a bubble barrier the
outside world can’t pierce.
The afternoon melts into
satisfaction and calm,
wrapped up in smiles and
hope for the future.
20:62
Dream to regret
everyday decisions,
choices we must make,
but leading away
from the future.
Here and now we
are rooted, to chop
ourselves free means
we’ll wither and
die before we reach
the sky.
20:59
Hints of my
absence even as
I stand here, clear
for all to see. Eager
faces to see me gone,
disappointed frowns to
see me remain. Realise
that, once I’m gone,
you’ll finally see
my worth, as my
bones crumble into
dust and ride the
wind forever.
20:60
Spinning odour of
hair masses together
and claims material,
smothering with liquid,
sucking away dirt,
but leaving a lingering
stench of overuse.
Round and round,
over and over,
never fully cleansed
of the human world.
20:57
Isolate yourself from
the world, as death
pursues you on leather
wings. Live on through
frozen energy. Emerge
yourself with music
that terrified ears struggle
to hear. Stare at
words that swim on
the page, refusing to
form the world of
stories. Sink into
comfort, only to panic
and spring back up,
pacing in your cage.
Lookout at the
transparent world,
knowing its not safe,
knowing it will never
be safe again.
20:58
Electric dreams to
carry you forward,
speeding ahead as I
trail behind, trying
to pick up the pieces
of reality.
20:55
Balanced and shifting
accounts, searching for
savings and hidden heirlooms
to give us room to
breathe. Can we freeze
it all? Please? And stare
in wonder at the empty
shelves aligning our
legacy. Perhaps this
is a secret blessing, a
threat to sweep us
into the end, before
we destroy ourselves
with misery, and
useless dreams.
20:56
Risk the lives of others
to preserve the harmony
of yours. Seven days a
small sacrifice, a pay-cut
for a week. But my
life will fall into chaos,
terror of plunging into a
hole with no end. Stay
back as I continue to
walk among you, earning
what I need, with a
trace of death in my
step.
20:54
Stalker app evolved,
now able to manipulate,
dictate, control your
every move. Notification,
this is your new eating time.
Update, this is when you’ll
have a day off. Want a
holiday? Too late! It’s been
decided you’ll take one
in three weeks. To celebrate
this evolution, a free lanyard
to tie around your neck.
Wear for as long as the
app is on, and feel its
constant pressure slowly
tightening, forming a
convenient noose as
you look up, searching
for a strong enough
structure you can
hang from forever.
Scribbled Thoughts