Guinness - NaPoWriMo2017 #7

Guinness 

Anxiety is 

Like being without

A cold, calming

Pint of Guinness 

In your hand. 

To soothe you

To make you

That gregarious 

Being that you are. 

Anxiety clouds you,

Unlike the cold, crisp

Freshness

Of the Pint

That makes you

Befriend the world. 

Anxiety is

The absence of 

Guinness

Choking

All that you are. 

Illegible - NaPoWriMo2017 Day #6

Illegible

My blood leaked

Ink into words

As far 

I go back

And though 

Sometimes I believe 

I wrote this life 

Into being,

The ink 

Spills in scrawls

I cannot decipher. 

Are these

The secret sorrows

We muffle

Into pillows

When the greatest

Fear

Is to look at

Our own humanity? 

Losing - NaPoWriMo2017 #5

Losing

I don't like losing

Although I hide it well

(I'm lying).

I'm selfish

Self centred

Accept no divinity

Other than my humanity

Yet. 

I fall to my knees

In worship

In adoration 

In wonder

In supplication 

When. You. Smile. 

I don't mind losing

When I am losing

All that I am

To you. 

Polyamory - NaPoWriMo2017 #4

Polyamory

My single child heart

Would never have 

Been amenable

To sharing love 

If I hadn't learned to lose 

It over and over 

To capricious, greedy cities.

They never demanded 

My whole, my complete 

Heart. 

So I exist in love 

With London. Delhi. 

Edinburgh. Cape Town. 

Multiple loves

Who are not quite

Entirely 

Mine. 

Yet, somehow the parts I get 

The parts I give

Are sharper, sweeter, deeper

For it. 

Poetic Returns - NaPoWriMo2017 #3

Poetic Returns

The last entry 

On my blog

Is dated June 2015

If unposted, then unwritten

I was always 

An exhibitionist. 

So, Is this

A triumphant return

Wiser, Better, Brighter? 

Hardly. 

Scared-er, Quieter, Softer

Befitting, for poetic returns. 

Green Vol. 2 - NaPoWriMo2017 #2

Green Vol. 2

After 10 kilometres 

Of the English countryside

We ambled together 

And the verdant, emeraldesque

Escape, It offered

I am still 

Inescapably bound

Solely 

By the green

Of your eyes. 

Damn everything else.  

Wine Sodden - NaPoWriMo2017 #1

Day 1 : National Poetry Writing Month 2017

'Wine Sodden'

At 23, 

Hangovers

Taste like regret. 

And less like 

Trophies at 18

I'm too young 

To feel this old 

But this is

Who we are, 

Millennials. 

Too young 

To feel the hopelessness

Of a broken world

Too old

To not know better. 

Is that why

We are drowning 

In wine drenched

Realities?