Three short poems submitted in a poetry anthology, 2014, AS Creative Writing.

Alliterative allure

You kissed me and I felt fire
in your lips and teeth and tongue,
and I ignored the bites and burns,
in favour of your fervour.



She remembered the past in framed photos
Heavily edited, highly posed,
Brutally selected.



I envy the quiet rain
That lulls you to sleep
I am the storm that scares you.

Shouting at the skies
Rather than just whispering
My words while you sleep.

I envy delicacy
softness and quiet:
Obviously I envy




Submitted in a poetry anthology, 2014, AS Creative Writing. 

You can roll your tongue,
And you got it from your Mother.
You’re hair colour is your grandmothers
(Father’s side).

You learned to bite back
From TV, and teen teardowns,
and it made me laugh,
(and cry and rage and want to die)

You’re eyes look like your Father’s
but his have laugh lines and yours
examine my faults.
(How similar to your mother)

You learned to punch,
when you were nine.
You punched the wall once.
(I was scared I could crumble like that plaster)

You smile like your brothers;
easily, often, and brilliantly,
with chubby cheeks, and crooked teeth.
(Only not so often anymore)

You got your anger from me.
I pushed, and pushed,
and formed it in fire
(like a ancient smith makes swords)

(How proud I am, to have helped make you).