I started writing poetry in my teens – typical, self-indulgent poetry about love and teenage angst, as you’d expect. Interestingly, at school – an all girl’s grammar school – I was considered ‘not very good’ at expressive writing. I never wrote a thing between then and the millennium, because of those dismissive comments. I started writing again as a way of coming to terms with the breakdown of my marriage. Since then I have had several poems published and one story – so far! Isn’t it terrible how one teacher’s casual comment can limit a person for decades.
I write now to celebrate who I am, my roots, my ideals, my philosophy, and to explore worlds beyond my reality – though, one might ask – what is reality. There are some theories of mind that suggest reality is what we make of it – how we construct it in our thoughts: if we can imagine it – it must exist – somewhere.
Many of my recent poems are a combination of my roots in East Yorkshire and mythology – hence the title Mythumbrian Dreams. Here are the first two for your, hopefully, delectation.
Darkest Immortal Destiny
Is it my soul’s destiny?
Is fate cruelly testing me?
For I’m losing my heart
And it’s keeping me apart – from life’s reality.
When he visits my dreams
My desire reaches extremes,
It’s like catching the moon,
He can’t get here too soon – such fragile eternity.
Beyond his sweet kiss
When he fills me with bliss,
I’m a cat without a crutch
And lean into his touch – my wicked lovely.
Can I endure his embrace
Without losing face?
He makes me forget all the pain
But shall I remain – quintessentially me.
Will I fall off the edge
If I believe in his pledge?
When our love we exchange,
And mind and heart are estranged – in night’s conspiracy.
I sing loudly, love’s rhyme
As I drift out of Time;
Through night’s fervent realm
His touch is my helm – into insanity.
My heart takes flight
Searching the ink dark night;
I’m lost; cleaved by love’s knife,
He’s my lodestone and life – its entirety.
Allure captures my fears
Like a shudder of breath after tears;
Yet his radiant shadows anoint
Those fears, to disjoint – my frail equanimity.
There’s nothing left in this world
As through the abyss I’m hurled.
Night after night
Revelling in his delight – come, darkest mercy.
Whatever this thing is
I will die for his kiss;
But death isn’t the end
For my soul so intends – to risk my mortality.
(Written in deference to the Wicked Lovely series of fantasy novels by Melissa Marr)
Changing Moods – a meditation on the River Humber
The moon shines on the surface
As the river runs its course
Her silver face refracted
In its remorseless driving force
Across the sinuous river
Cloud shadows slide in view
Marbling the surface
In shades of pewter hue
The wind shakes up the wavelets
As currents cross its face
And queries ride the ripples
As the river changes pace
The water churns beneath the bridge
That throbs with speeding tyres
On parabolic curving arcs
Spun between concrete spires
Soft snow transforms the mudflats
Into leviathans lying low
In that silent, frozen river
That dreams of long ago
When in its youth it pounded
Carving out the land
Into vales and dales and flood plains
Grinding rock to sand
The river in its broad expanse
Meanders the cornfields tall
Till it reaches the mighty ocean’s
Arms, following the seagull’s call