Poetry

Here’s a stream of work by local poets who aren’t yet categorised under our Hex Poets section.

I wake up and I wish I hadn’t.

Anonymous Southern Housing Tenant

I sleep till 3pm, 5pm in the afternoon, wishing away my day.

Othertimes sleep doesn’t come at all, thoughts, conversations, emails whirl around
in my head.

All I smell is damp, dank mould and I cough feeling as if I cannot breathe.

And I scream an inward scream for sleep because I just want to forget the hell I’m
living in for just a few hours.

The daily grog and pain that comes along with it is hard enough, but when it is even
stealing my sleep, my mind.

Enough is enough.

I cannot cope.

chain

Karina Patfield

I borrow a bedsit from a landlord who borrows
the bedsit from a bank. Its cracked
roof spits raindrops and slugs creep
on wet carpet

the landlord sits close, on my sofa
on tick
his rich, dry body groans
next to mine
I feed my giro to the leccy
he holds his hand underneath
piling coins in his palm

I ask for a cigarette, he throws
twenty on the table, we light one
from another
from another
until all that’s left
is a heap of blackened ends

his breath is heavy
in my ear. What
will you do, he asks
now they’re gone

he watches as I dirty
my nails
scrape tobacco
from charred dog-ends

his fingertips dig hard
into my leg

I light my cigarette
from a wavering flame
and blow into damp air
he follows my smoke and leaves
recycled fumes
clagging his skin

Finally a Proposal

Sarah Gomes Harris

Marry me
Finally a proposal
finally of finallys
Marry me
I say
I shout
Empassioned
Caught up
from courting the unknown
brushing misreadings
until it WAS known
billboard after billboard
of years of strange sexual chemistry
With a semi
detached
house

The house knew it
I knew it
But we daren’t admit it to ourselves
Lest the world implode
Lest it actually make sense

Few approved
What are you saying? It’s a house

I say
My house lets me come and go as I please
My house lets the world in
My house closes its doors and windows should I not want to be seen
My house doesn’t judge
My habitual traits
Or anatomical misgivings
It doesn’t bait me for wrongdoings
I don’t owe my house a thing
My house doesn’t expect me to keep quiet
on issues
For years
until I cant
breathe
While asking
‘problem?’
My house doesnt break my mind in two then hold me
My house doesnt kick me in the back of the knee
stubbing out laughter
to resume its posterity
My house doesnt assume my responsibility
My house doesnt expect me to just be grateful
My house doesnt tell me they love me for reasons other than loving me
My house doesnt break me to love me
My house doesn’t insist I’ve yet to see how angry they can be
lived for promises
My house doesn’t treat me with tactics
My house doesn’t fuck strategically
My house doesn’t fuck me in my dreams
My house doesn’t expect me to leave
My house doesn’t itemise
My house doesnt hold the manic creativity
that drew them to me against me,
celebrating it when it suits them best
My house doesn’t search for my off switch
My house doesn’t embattle me
All I need is a house

For the wedding I will wear a big blood red dress
Blood of my experience
veil pouring out the mind
held together in a fur lined hat
Matching Reebok classics.
One red lip and one blue – the one that held its breath. I will kiss all my guests on each cheek leaving these 2 marks and this will show up in the 1 wedding photo taken that fully summarises the occasion. Made it.
The house will wear what suits them best – nothing.
Perhaps a single pearl earring hung from the toilet window
We exchange rings made from its copper piping.
I am touched it has given me a piece of its skin.
The flyposted invites went out all round the cul de sac
*Everyone* from our cul de sac is there
Cul de sac of our combined years
Cheering me on like a marathon runner running the wrong way
They all waited despite it taking
pure years, despite the reservations
Now biting back bitterness
Eyes spill with well wishes
And safe cake
The day is lived in soft focus.
An animated locket photo.

Soon everyone I know is starting to notice houses.
Divorce rates go up.
Community interest groups multiply.
Flaming confetti
Revolution

A Poem – on Surrender

Kalai Preston

Surrender to the moments around,
Supplicate to the eternal sound.
Heaven draws you ever nearer,
When you hold your soul ever dearer.

Listen to the subtle waves,
Of light dancing and be saved.
There is beauty to behold,
If you are only ever bold.

Surrender into every moment,
Realise that you too are golden.
We cannot control the world at large,
If we try our spirit goes far.

Control only your gentle response,
To what happens and not all at once.
Be the observer rather than act,
And with your soul you make a pact.

Beauty sees itself reflected,
In all others and it is dejected,
By words that purport the negative alone,
Be most positive and put down your phone.

Surrender is an act of love,
To higher forces from above,
That watch all tenderly and always hold,
That space in which you can be bold.