Writing, thoughts and whatever else I come up with…
Every Thing
And when I am old I will fight for every breath Leave the queue that waits for death Claw for every word and taste and touch Every colour, every note I will take every moment more Every moment free of you Every minute more where my life is mine And will never again be yours
Working Title: Domesday excerpt 2
Rough Draft – Scene from Chapter 3 They were headed to the Barracks when Bob took over the van’s radio “Major?” She pitched her voice to be heard by the car microphone “Go ahead, Technician” “Be advised that the Book Room have requested redeployment to legal offices 54 Eastbourne Street, It’s a support role with…
Sunset to Midnight
A car light flared through the gauzy curtain of the motel room, he started. Heart thumping, he dragged in a shaky breath and lit another cigarette. Colour was leeching from the sky towards dusk. They’d destroyed the room together the day before, stripping clothes and breathless. When they had burst back into the room at…
Working Title: Domesday excerpt 1
Chapter 1 She fell in to the desk chair and looked around, the old scratched desk looked like it had survived all three world wars and it most likely had. Folders, book, bits of paper and post-its covered 90% of its surface, there was a mug in a corner that looked like it was ready…
Violet
Tissue thin worn thin slowing breath we used to walk on salty shores we talked of war, and toil and your far off home I will remember I am now the eldest woman of my mother’s line
Pre-loved
She walked through the door. The shop was musty, pungent with smell of time. She breathed it in, taking her away from the crisp brittle autumn brightness. The unmade sense of the world, the time that hadn’t been lived yet. She walked without direction, touching fabric, caressing folds of denim and silk. She loved this…
Cassandra
Beauty is only beheld by the eyes of the world’s Cassandras.Sea grown sacrifices of human follyCast into the waters for the sake of continuing grief.Beauty makers,They clutch around them their gowns of might-have-beens.Torn to shreds by sacrificial fire and the rising tide.Fire-fingered, they cast down their charcoal marks upon the page,Sooted tears from haunted eyes.Beauty…
Reject the lack of change at the end of the day With weary eyes and a tired heart The sun sets And I am back to the start
Underground
I died here alone on this bench My soul lying cold in my arms, staring Shuddering to still Nobody really looked through enough lost property to save me Write your songs on the walls of public places Lyrics across the walls of bus shelters, train windows The steps leading to the whorehouses Leave more behind…
Eden
God made a playground He filled it with pretty colours and moving parts And his children watched with wings aquiver Till God decided to have another son
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Kitty Powers 