Caramel

Simple surface you is suffice
For the crowd's guilty blue eyes,
The dusted icing of the cake
With layers beyond reach,
The half-full, broken smile of pink,
blowing hollow pouted lies,
The succulence of honesty
A trait you cannot teach.
Canned laughter echoes in your ears
Triggered by your longing lips,
My silence is a knowledge
That resonates within your mind,
Brick by brick you crumble as
Your integrity water drips, but
You so deeply long to please them
That you leave my love behind.
I'll always be the sideline girl
In a crowded, empty room,
Shuddering with your destiny -
Such familiar red beauty,
Holding steadfast to your promises,
O' to focus and assume
Upon all your love of yesterday,
When alone, then it is me.

Hush little baby

The sunset has seen this all before
As I gaze with blue despondence
Into her spectrum of hope -
Why do I only hum a sort-of-beauty
That the naked orb beholds,
Whilst you effortlessly pacify
The scarred and broken souls?
Excuse me, I asked you a question
Of which I expect an answer. Oh.
So you glow in mellow silence,
Maybe this is your prerogative;
Hush little baby, don't you cry...

Crush'd

Miss, Miss, he's just stolen my pencil,
He's chewing off the rubber,
He's blunting the sharp lead.
Miss, Miss, he's just hit me in the arm,
He's left a big red mark,
He's happy that it hurt.
Miss, Miss, he's just eaten my cupcake,
He's swallowing the chocolate,
He's spitting out the sprinkles.
Miss, Miss, he's emptied my PE bag,
He's stamping on my t-shirt,
He's spitting on my trainers.
Miss, Miss, he's copying my homework,
He's tearing up the worksheet,
He's hiding all my answers.
Miss, Miss, I think I'm in love with him.

No offence if this is your Nan

So, I was on the train today, after listening to a poetry reading and Q&A with Sophie Hannah, who is a really good poet actually, albeit slightly brash in her opinions, and I was in a poetic-ey, literature-ey frame of mind, if you will, when my bubble was burst by a everyday bolshy elderly lady. Despite the somewhat negative aura around this poem, it did actually make me laugh and I really enjoyed the journey home due to the oxy moron. To further the irony, Sophie Hannah then actually got onto the same train and sat opposite her and I was (symbolically?) sat between the two of them. So yeah, this isn't a metaphor:

She hushes her voice in stage whisper
As she dilutes my mind's epiphany,
Just moments ago I was melting away
In what truly this sweet world could be.
Of art and of love and of pleasure and
Of all sprinkles of relative sin,
That her passive gossip cannot father
Or to such beauty even begin.
Her coffee coated face was laced
With her self-diagnosed intellect,
Her visage promised penniless secrets
Of Betty, Marie or Jeanette.
So thank you for melting my dreamworld
With the tale of tapping the Milkman,
Despite this you did actually make my day,
No offence if this is your Nan.

This is my Limbo.

This is my limbo.
Frozen between the heat.
This is my limbo.
Broken and incomplete.
This is my limbo.
Shiver as you touch.
This is my limbo.
Your presence all too much.
This is my limbo.
It could just be safe bet.
This is my limbo.
But I cannot forget.
This is my limbo.
How you hold my hand.
This my limbo.
The tide is touching sand.
This is my limbo.
I'll never decipher he.
This is my limbo.
But he has deciphered me.
This is my limbo.
Every heartbeat true.
This is my limbo.
Am I in love with you?

Moses Metaphor

The sea is scarlet before my eyes,
Your whispers emanate to sighs,
Egyptian eyes burn through my back,
Singe integrity, which I lack,
The miracle kiss from my true love,
Sent by angels, he above
Has dissected the sea of natural form,
Now in two halves she lies, forlorn,
So I can run, can skip, can dance,
All I must do is seize this chance,
To dissolve amongst the deep red sea,
To find myself, completely free,
But who are you, Egyptian soul?
What if it's you who'll make me whole?
For now my toes they kiss the rim,
But still my heart is crying: 'Him!'.

March

My heart left me a message
on my answering machine,
she said she's on her way back home
a place she's barely seen.
I'm terrified for her return
as days creep slowly by,
the question isn't how she is,
the question's simply: Why?
The stars are softly whispering,
the midnight smile is near;
at the thought of finding who I am
my soul shivers with fear.

I don't understand;
I was happy with being broken -
what changed?

Nearly seventeen

There is a fizzy little memory
that echoes in my brain,
It tinkles on the dinky keys,
the dominant sustain,
You ponder on the wondrous
of my dainty, naive hold,
but one thing that I promise you:
My love shall not grow cold.
I'll dance within the heartache,
I shall frolic through the woe;
I grant you - It is silly, but
I shall not let you go.

So maybe I am puerile in the
science of your smile,
maybe this is what she did,
what they've done for a while,
but let me be the guileless girl,
the devoted inbetween,
let me be your one day she,
your besotted sweet sixteen.
You never know, the pedal could
be pressed firm to the floor;
The tinkle on the dainty keys
could sustain forevermore.