Enter the Night
Author: Beathag
Not really in the mood for defining myself.
Home to me
The gnarly oaks have stillednot one leaf stirson my back, I gazeat the travelling skythrough the shynessof the canopy even the birds have stoppedperhaps to let me hearmy heart and greening breath but now a sinister humof a fly-swarm I cannot seeit threatens to feast on those dying, uselessparts of me may the maggots take them!let […]
Read MoreEmbercombe
I have just returned from a magical week in a Devonshire Valley, rediscovering myself, the land and how much I love people. I participated in Embercombe’s flagship ‘personal development course’ (that feels trite to describe it that way). It was a very profound experience. I wrote this poem on the penultimate day whilst reflecting on […]
Read MoreRaven Feather
in morning delirium I thought I held a raven-feather
sleek and sculpted for cutting air
HONEY AND DUST
I need a blank slate – a white sheet
some breathing space in this bloody place
exhume me from the myriad crap I’ve kept
that now keeps me crippled.
DEXTERITY
In the mornings when I wake
I reach for the drops
to moisten my dry eyes
Designer Living
accents in tallow
licked at by the pale hound
we lashed to the downpipe
leaden with undertones of blue
The Firebowl
My garden awakens;
buds and blossoms are peeking
the tender air hums and whirrs
with hungry bees that grapple
with fragile rims of
white comfrey bells.
The worst thing I think I have ever done
Here is my confession
of a memory I cannot shake
I ended lives
that were not mine to take
Conversations avec moi-même
When I am alone, sometimes
I speak to myself in French
and when I do, I’m new –
exotique
