Poems
Oblivion
Vespertine
Thursday
Utopia
She sits in a faded green armchair. Lips pursed, held in fraught trembling emotion. Long slender yellowed hands caress a gold cigarette packet. Ripping off the cellophane outer cover she struggles. Damn arthritis, always niggling at the end of her fingertips.
The box opens clumsily. Twenty white sticks peek themselves out, exposing there soft brown ends filled with a lethal mixture of tobacco and chemicals. Highly addictive and so awfully damaging to the insides. But she doesn't care. She just thinks about that wonderful sweet taste. That same hit, time and time again. The thrill of it all, smoke slowly sliding down the back of her throat. Red raw after years of the same abuse. Again what does she care? It has been 40 years. What's done is done.
She balances the cigarette in her dry mouth. Her right hand glides over the cold metal. The clammy skin sticks into the bumps and grooves. Striking the lighter, once ... twice ... ah third time lucky.
The soft blue flame flickers. She sticks the fag into it. The thick grey smoke billows out, filling the room with a foggy haze. She takes drag after drag for the next fifteen minutes. Till she finally squishes the butt end into a floral ashtray. Stubbing out every last little flicker of red light.
Her ears now adjusting, come into focus with the crackling sound coming from behind in the dining room.
'.....and now The Shipping Forecast issued by The Met Office, on behalf of The Maritime and Coastguard Agency, at 17.25 on Thursday 5th December at 1755, 2005.'
Radio Four, The Shipping Forecast. Her own personal prayer.
'Forties, Cromarty, Forth, Tyne, Dogger, Northwest 6 to gale 8, severe gale 9 later, rain or showers, moderate or good.'
The drowsy words swirl around her mind. Helping to slowly shut off every single little distraction in the outside world.
He comes to her in a daydream. Standing there, tall and proud. Big brown eyes and small steel glasses framing his delicate face. Then there's the smile. The big wide smile brimming across his face. No, she thinks, it's not a smile, it's more like grin. A crazy grin, similar to that of the Cheshire cat in Alice in Wonderland. Why is he grinning so much? His whole body is glowing. She see's her reflection shining in his diamond eyes. A youthful elegant body is covered in a long silk gown with wings. His arms are outstretched and he is calling her name.
The bright white light is nearing towards them both. Feeling unafraid she clings onto his arm as he glides her off away into the unknown illuminated corner of her mind and spirit she has yet to discover.
she glides across the seabed,
ultramarine waves envelop over her exhausted body.
frail brittle bones poking their way out beneath pale wrinkled skin,
stretching over twisting blue webs of blood and veins.
moving lips shape to murmur a last prayer
goodbye to her children, her lover ..... her life.
coral curls and seaweed tangle round delicate feet,
arms outstretched, the fake fur coat limps through the dredges sluggishly.
straying solo in the Ouse,
now forever alone in silence and madness.
night breaks, broken and barren.
the tide dragging her further and further out.
she will sleep in these sullen waters eternally
until breathing has finally stopped, those dark demons will then be laid to
rest, never to strike those deep depths inside her ever again.
she will be liberated.
One thirty a.m
Blood rushes thick and fast.
Corseting through laced labyrinths of veins
into a joined corrugating braille
heartbeat.
Crimson lips interlock,
feeding themselves off unbridled passion.
Undressing in the dark,
with only a fizzing orange hue
creeping its way through the glowing striped curtains.
Lying over a bed of quilted blooming floral,
fingertips caressing curves and folds.
Their aching bodies sweat, filled with fever.
Sighs and moans,
two drowsy lovers weeping in unison.
Pain and exhaustion.
Exhilaration.
A glass of bitter water.