Poetry

Empty

Slightly burnt, with crusts a little too thick. 

The last of the butter, evenly spread.

A little sweeter, perhaps? Too bland otherwise. 

Is there anything left in the cupboard? 

Jam, marmite, lemoncurd?

Maybe the marmite. 

Some will hate but others will love. 

They’ll say the taste is too strong. 

Lingers. 

They’ll have their opinions. They’ll say. 

But still they will take, despite their talk. 

And when there’s nothing left, they’ll move onto the next,

leaving nothing but a few crumbs and an empty shelf. 

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Enough

I wonder what you see, 
when I should ask: 
“What do I see?”

I wonder what you think,
when I should ask: 
“What do I think?” 

I wonder whether I am enough, 
when I should say:
“I have always been enough.” 

Street folk

A sharp scream that pierced the night,
echoing through the neighbourhood.
Its owner unknown, hidden amongst the black.
The street folk shifted, sensing something but not wanting to know.
Hands in pockets, gazes cast down, they shuffle forwards.
One more time, louder in the growing darkness.
Quick glance, one foot in front of the other.
Hurry now. Try not to be the last.

What lies behind?

A turn of a head,
for just a split second.
There’s that look. Held.
So steady and sure.
Strong, yet seemingly pure. 

Not a flutter, nor a falter.
Piercing, enchanting,
understanding, judging?
What lies behind?
Is it something kind? 

Your stomach starts to churn,
so very nearly knotted.
A tiny slice of doubt. Niggling.
And so you look elsewhere,
anywhere but there.

The fleeting moment flown.
Long lost before it started.
And so you sit and wonder,
what did they see?
And once again, off you flee.

Just Another Day - Poem

Just another day

Drip, drip,
you sit and watch.
Drip, drip,
the same old noise.
Drip, drip,
just another day.

Fix it, they say.
Fix it, they plead.
Fix it, they scream.
You stop,
and stare.

Drip, drip,
it’s back again.
Drip, drip,
glass-eyed and numb.
Drip, drip,
just another day.

Do something, they say.
Anything, they hope.
Fix it, they scream.
You stop,
and smile.

Drip, drip,
you rise and fall.
Drip, drip,
You laugh, you scream.
Drip, drip,
just another day.

what makes you squirm poem

What makes you squirm 

A quick look,
a sneaky peek.
Eyes open wide,
pupils dilate.
Shock, horror.
What to say?
Stomach churning,
you turn away.

She looks at you,
a face of fear.
Lost for words,
eyes don’t linger.
Gaze cast down,
sorry you try.
Tears forming,
you wave goodbye.

A truth seen,
hard to digest.
She understands,
why you can’t.
One last glance,
forward you go.
A resounding sigh,
just another memento.