poetry

Rubbernecking

| Sheree

She’s called Daphe, the woman running the business training out of her Notting Hill home.

The Thames curves south from here by Chelsea, sluggish brown. The city’s awake and burning.

Have you been to see the damage yet? he asks, in our snatched conversation.

Almost gleeful in his hunger to hear details about the tower block which blazed leaving so many people missing or dead.

He says there’s photographs of the missing stuck to tree trucks, walls and railings. Black, brown and olive skinned and missing.

I don’t want to see this suffering. The ruins becoming a tourist attraction. Leave them with some dignity. Always having to endure the gaze in life and death.

Summer Fox

| Sheree

Could I be as cute and cunning as a fox, I giggle into another snapshot filter. 

Happy in my play and disregard for others’ opinions.

His eyes are open and still. I think he’s a he, slight and young. Pointy nose with white frosting.

The rest of him is a dull orange red.

So whole and perfect and dead.

Lying on his side at the edge of the motorway, four legs sticking straight out as if ready to bounce back onto, after playing dead. 

I feel guilty. I didn’t hit him. He was already dead when I flew by in Summer, my metallic orange Susuki Splash, honest. 

But when I see him dead as clear as day, I feel shame at my mini Snapchat film and buying into the cunning as a fox stereotype of fairytales. 

My heart stays in my throat for the whole day.
Why did he have to die, such beauty and no blood? 

The Outlook is Good

| Sheree

uncomfortable sensations which can only be described as pain course straight to the core

to release endorphins of joy

the outlook is better

the outlook is golden

the outlook is diamond

the outlook is bright

the outlook is purple

the outlook is a gift

Wandering Around the Cores

| Sheree

I’ve always had a wandering relationship with water.

Called it curiosity as a child. Call it freakiness as an adult. To feel the curling nothingness upon my skin, turning once dry to wet.

I’ve always wondered where the water flows,

why it’s never the same sea twice and

why they keep pulling me back to dive deeper into their cores?

Sending Out Some Hard Love

| Sheree

I want to send out a love that feels hard to the people so when they feel it they pay attention.

That they don’t dismiss it as soft.

I want them to feel it in their gut like a punch. Recall the power.

That they don’t miss the promise it holds.

Yes, I want to send out a love that feels hard to the world so they stop taking it for granted.

That they don’t forget to send it back to me.

It’s been a while …

| Sheree

Hey hey hey.

What’s happening? I’ve been on a social media hiatus. I’ve been leaning into Summer. I’ve been going slow. And it continues at least until the end of August. And then I’ll reassess.

What I have decided is that September is going to be 30/30. Thirty poems in thirty days. Why? Because I’m always thinking I’m not writing enough. Because I’m excited to write when I’m inspired to write. Usually through reading other people’s poetry.

If I’m not reading. I’m not writing. And I’m a writer because I’m a reader. I want to generate new work and what better way to do that than to get in amongst language and play. Work out a few issues and have fun doing so.

So I hope to see you back here at the beginning of September to share in the creations.