This was written from the prompt: Silence. The poem tries to communicate the moment of profound silence after the premature birth of my daughter, Amy.
For those of you who don’t follow me on Facebook:
I did a reading a few weeks ago at the Dead Women Poets Society, in Norwich, UK and was approached after the event by a lovely woman called Rebecca who asked me to write a blog about my work. You can read my guest blog on her inspirational website:
Thank you, Rebecca.
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(Life in the midst of Coronavirus!)
My best friend and visual artist, Tanya Raabe,
challenged me to write something to go with her visual art study of a recent selfie with friends.
Please feel free to share your thoughts/response.
I find my old make up bag at the back of
My bedside drawer. Digging around in 80s history
My bottle of blue mascara finds me.
Twisting the lid, like a miniature time capsule,
The familiar acrid smell flies free; like a pent-up genie
But the wand is as dry as forty year-old, buried bones.
I felt like Scarlet O’Hara back then!
Dragged in drainpipe jeans and Doc Martins.
Listening to Duran Duran on my Sony Walkman,
Eyes painted like an Egyptian queen.
New age romanticism fed my youthful enthusiasm
For finding the perfect orgasm which
Only ever seemed to happen,
When I put my blue mascara on.
I slip it under my pillow and leave the room.
Happy International Women’s Day!
08 March, 2020