Author: tynedaile

Upon realizing the lies will continue

poetry

The thought hit me like a
Fist to the neck
So I rolled over, gently
And let the sheet fall
From off one shoulder
A small wave, lapping at my side

Your lips met my back like
Little sea babies, drenched
And salty, pressing their
Bodies into the sand
To dry off
To cover something up

There are only so many words
Available to us now
And I’ve used them all up
They’re washed up on the
Twilight shore
Rotting away like whales.

Overnight loan only

poetry

If i got locked in the library
overnight
i don’t think I’d try to get
as much reading in as possible.

I wouldn’t attempt to erase the
fines I’ve accumulated and i
certainly wouldn’t exploit the
opportunity to do some photocopying.

I’d find that one elusive book
the one that is always on loan
and hide it safely away under a
big, lofty oil painting on the fifth floor.

Orange bag

poetry

I left an orange in my bag, oops
The mess was horrific
Over lining, zips, and flaps

For days and weeks,
Everything I owned smelt like fruit
Everywhere i went was fruit

Libraries became orchards
And bedrooms became an
Endless garden of Eden

My mood began to ripen
As i forgot about
Fruitless, damaging things.

Noughts and Crosses

poetry

The little girl next to me
is playing noughts and crosses
by herself.
I’m not quite sure who’s winning
but she’s a skillful player.
She doesn’t know i’m watching,
probably because she’s
concentrating
twice as hard.
Noughts went first last game,
now it’s crosses.
I’m eager to interrupt, offer a
spare set of hands,
a new perspective.
But then again, maybe the rest of us
have been playing it wrong
all along.