Exile

I crawled into the carcass
of your scavenged legacy
stitched a cocoon from the carrion
of false epithets bestowed
on your name.

sepia-brittle and crumbling I clung
pupating in a squall of anger
until I sliced my way out
a katana soul-drawn
from the scabbard of my heart
a ronin now
banished for freeing myself
from the collective.

I carry our memories
in the whetstone
that tempers blade
exquisitely fatal.

Ascent

This time
the climb felt easier
the incline didn’t seem to stretch for a year
my legs keeping feeling without force.

This time
my dewy eyes were due to a biting wind
     rather than the noose of grief
that swallowed the air from my body
           and the right words from my lips
like the last time.

And this time our hands held gentler
and it wasn’t to do with the new gloves
we are stronger now.

The Brutality of Origami

Boots sinking
we stood vigil
as our paper swans
glided across the lake
life
unravelling

with forms limp
we retreat
their final descents   haunting.

Revival

At the mark of the golden hour
rays of low winter sunlight
descend from the sky
     - like spectres

never quite touching solid ground
but always reaching
       always reaching
finding frozen breath

thawing life.

T’was A Violet Sky

And the clouds crumbled to feathers
silent and graceful as gliding swans.

This short poem was in response to a TopTweetTuesday prompt.

A Hunter’s Moon

The crescent moon
glinted like a scythe -

against the bruise-blue night sky
a celestial grim reaper
a witness to the dark things

grief ambushed me
like an owl in hunt
silently, savagely,
tearing my contentment
to shreds.

Tranquil Violence

Like a squall of rabid jackals
clutching at downed prey
foaming furious waves crushed
into the cowing ebony rockface
so sinister and brutal the crush
that the nearby valleys of marram grass
bristled with every slamming smash

but the sky was glacial blue
and we felt tranquil
hands held gently as we walked
    - the silence of sand underfoot.

Glimmer

I am the window pane
simultaneously introvert and extrovert
a shadow of an afterthought - 
   sometimes I’m caught in other’s refraction

they turn toward or 
         turn away
with a smile, with spite 
or with sorrow.

Advent Calendar Poem #24: A Mild Christmas Eve

The low dawn casts its shadow
gently as pastel persimmon
across the rooftops
as blinds twitch 
in hope of snowfall 

robins like paladins
stand proudly atop fenceposts 
keeping watch over the people they love
singing quiet whispers of strength 

along the emerald and dull silver hedgerow 
the squabbles of nature seem calmer
as if peace has befallen predator and prey
and no man’s land is safe for a while 

believing isn’t seeing
believing is believing

Thanks for joining me for the last day of the advent calendar of poems. I hope you’ve enjoyed my scribbling over the past month and year. All your support is highly appreciated.

Here’s a quote from my favourite Christmas film, Scrooged: “ It’s Christmas Eve! It’s, it’s the one night of the year when we all act a little nicer, we, we, we smile a little easier, we, w-w-we, we, we cheer a little more. For a couple of hours out of the whole year, we are the people that we always hoped we would be! It’s a miracle, it’s really, a sort of a miracle because it happens every Christmas Eve.”

Merry Christmas and A Happy New Year

Paul

Advent Calendar Poem #23: Pressure Cooking

There’s a tumbling of sprouts
mini green baubles spilling 
over the kitchen floor 
from the punctured paper bag
a reindeer’s snack 
has caused the tear 
as if anticipating 
the sound of sleigh bells 
but the only sound at the moment 
is sobbing and swearing 
the self-imposed pressure building 
before you can relax 
you have a hundred jobs to do
but Christmas isn’t all on your shoulders
grab a drink and take a seat 
a deep breath to slow down
like snow falling 
everything will be okay.

Hey everyone Merry Christmas Eve Eve. Thanks for taking the time to stop by and read the penultimate advent calendar poem for 2022.

Here’s a quote from one of my favourite Xmas movies, The Polar Express “Seeing is believing, but sometimes the most real things in the world are the things we can’t see.”

Take It Easy