We have Moved

Come and visit the new site, Bumbles & Light.

Midnight Coffee Break

I was reading through some of my old "work". Interesting, interesting.

Thank You For Your Most Recent Rejection

I keep the walls of my cheap
apartment blank as their birth, except
one wall in the back of the office where
I spend nights slaving over cover letters,
proof reading and
licking the glue from envelopes.
This is where I keep my rejection letters.
Behind me now, light
from the open window slowly
fades black type on letters carefully
pinned to the wall.
Thank you for your most recent rejection,
I now have enough letters to cover
the wall entirely
and perhaps things will start looking up for me.

A Night At The Paper Factory

Florescent light painted
sleight by hand
on plastic cups, black coffee
into mud.
Grimy metal grind metal -
spark, rust and
squirm. Cannibal conveyor belts
whine, devour dust
and their own emerald tongues.


In web-like net,
grimey and
green with algae,
we lie in wait
like limpets.
the approaching storm,
waiting together
for the ocean
to wash us

He Is Silent

He is silent.
Smoke curls from his nostrils.
Eyes slowly wandering,
rest for a moment
on strewn bedclothes,
vagrant pillows.
Bringing the cigarette to his lips,
the scent of sex lingers.

She does not.

Loose Change

autumn to winter:

we speed through the
transition of the seasons

racing each other

like clouds upon a storm,
skittish and impatient.

we are still in anticipation
of tangible change.


The Psychology Of Moths

we sleep
back to back
bodies curled
and dream in

on a bed
of folded paper
and flesh-toned

Perhaps I need to read a "How to write Poetry for Dummies" guide. I forget. I don't rhyme. I need to purchase a Thesaurus.

Post a Comment

Please do not use the blogger comment form to leave a comment as no one will be able to see it! Please use the intense debate form above.

I am a 24 year old British stay at home mother to a two year old boy. Married to a U.S. soldier and currently living in Germany.

I have seen the Vatican from the very top of St Peter's Basilica, the mud in the World War I trenches outside Ypres. I have walked through Montmartre side streets bustling with people in the evening, gotten lost in the streets of Greenwich Village NYC, run through cornfields on the Welsh border and sat outside with a cup of tea watching fireflies in the fields of the outer Chicago suburbs.

I have held the hands of others through addiction, fear, suicide, despair and come out the other side. I have left everything behind to begin anew.
I have fought mental illness and walked through snow in the mountains of the lake district, England. I have explored the morgue in the bowels of an abandoned hospital on a summer evening, climbed to the top of scaffolding on the outside of a five floor warehouse to look at the city lights of Nottingham at night and I have watched the sun setting on the Texas horizon.

I have held my son's tiny hand through the plastic window on an isolette in the NICU ward. Walked, speaking only in whispers, through the catacombs beneath the ground on the outskirts of Rome and seen the fireworks over Heidelberg castle.