A love Poem

1          Love poem

 

My butterfly life, never settling with the flower of a wife,

I wonder if I am capable of true love or if I am cursed to wonder.

How my arms ache to hold, how my lips burn to kiss

But, I do not want a butterfly wife.

I don’t want a pretty little miss who doesn’t mind who she kisses,

I am a man who needs a real wife.

 

I am a man with a butterfly life. I am not a gypsy,

nor travelling salesman who sells potions and lotions from door to door.

I do not hunt for a wife only long for a love.

I don’t just want some other cute young tipsy,

nor a woman who has a tendency to mother.

I don’t want women who constantly smother or call you guilty.

 

 

Oh my butterfly life I need an anchor.

Life so fleeting, that it is constantly moving and never settles too long.

I have been through so many changes and have had so many stages.

Some say I am pretty, and for my flesh hanker.

Say that I am infamous, that I’m famous, because I own many pages.

Oh, but, I am also lonely, and desire only her.

 

by S.Bryant

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Poems from writing retreat

Mum

Her home in two places can be

One her family, is she?

The other a mother.

Life can be smothered

I ritual suffered.

Her fresh bread dedication

A clean house meditation.

Church and then home

Regulated, lovingly grown.

I fail.

I fail the ‘I do’s.’

I fail to choose.

I’m wanting more

I’m taking it all.

She is not me.

By SB

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Poems from writing retreat

I come from
I come from ‘kiddy’ like

From angel named and dad’s girl

From ‘Ser Bear’ can have what she wanted.
I come from Mums are so sensible

From the smell of Jeyes’ Fluid and Tea Tree oil

From dentist visits and “clean up please.”
I come from having a silver cross and my hero’s St Christopher

From talking to myself and him talking calm sense to me.

From “if it’s worth you having baby, it’s worth you fighting for.”
I come from protests at tinned peas

From chocolate please

From “baby is so funny, just like her mummy.”
I come from the smell of Nan’s apple pies

From picking blackberries along the road

From an older man, spinning lies…
I went to “Marry me please”

To a home among tall pine trees

To paper immigration and Canadian contemplation
I went to our broken dream

Then the angriest of screams

Then our marriage ripping at the seams
I came back to Dad’s large arms

To nanny’s home charms

To mummy’s clean and my brokenness unseen.
By SB

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Kidderminster

It’s “Kiddy like”

Its ride your bike.

Its multi-coloured rivers

From factory carpet dippers.

Its many cars on their way

For who would want to stay.

It’s not Birmingham or Worcester

But an intertwined waster,

It’s a town with a city sound.

It’s got no shop centre

Its inhabitant’s dissenter

Its generic supermarkets, Give it some spit.

Its “kiddy like” to have a fight

It’s Park Street’s weed that fills the night,

It’s the canal towpath meet

Its youth who you’ll greet

Its police ASBO warnings

It’s yawning but not at all boring

It’s my gang and our click.

“You Jubilee Drive or Brinton chick?”

Are you ‘kiddy’ Harriers Proud?

It’s Saturday massing Saturday crowd.

“Yer it’s kiddy like”

It’s “get on ya bike!” or “take a hike!”

If you’re not ‘kiddy’ like.

By SB

In the jar piece 

Butterfly In a Jar
Captured your body, holding your naive mind.

Captured your love, holding you for a time.
Little angel in a jar

Can’t stay here, can’t go far.
Let you go your flitting demands,

I went and destroyed all your plans
Sad and broken butterfly,

Stay and watch the world go by.
By

Seraphim Bryant 
  

Home?

Got the chance to work with some formerly homeless people in a poetry workshop last week and would like to share these two little gems;

 

The Tower

Tall dark tower in the light of the fading hour

Tall dark tower such a hunting power

Tall dark tower a bell tower

Tall dark tower under you I cower

Tall dark tower shelter in rain shower

 

 

Nan’s House

 

Creeping though the house

Just like a little mouse

Don’t let her catch you James

This is no place for silly games

Watch out for her stick

It’s quick with a whip and a flick

No you don’t mess about

Or Nan will start to shout

Then mom will have lots to say

And there will be hell to pay

Sit still James and drink you juice

No more squabbling we’ll call a truce

 

I took these poems to the WEA art group this week and our lovely learners did their own images of home again i just picked out two to show you but they were all brilliant

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Week 6 Creative Writing with WEA

The Argument

“Looking for something” he says

“Please not again” she silently prays

My confidence he sways, masterful in the role he plays

“What a mess” he grumbles in annoyance, as I don’t have the gift of clairvoyance my reaction is delayed and to him this my guilt displays

“Why are you snooping? What is it that you seek” he shuffles his paper, his eye on me

“It is not me” I plea “may be the children in their swooping or they curiously peek” I don’t know what else to think.

We stand upon the brink of yet another debate our course now innate as I have taken his bait.

“Laundry piled high some effort you might apply, stuff in the sink what am I to think? You know a lesser man than me would be driven to drink.

Common sense you need, what a pathetic weed and out all times of day with my work pay. What have you to say?!”

Nothing of course, I’m too full of remorse.

My aim should be to serve it’s no more than I deserve.

“It’s all your fault” his continued insult “why can’t you be like a real wife” directed like a knife

I’m the prisoner at the bar wearing love as a scar, might I be exonerated or to this authority I’m fated to fix in his box and wash his socks

I wonder how it will all end, how much more my will can bend

Promises broken with so many hateful words spoken

Some sign I need for my hope to feed and grow a little stronger, my love to last a little longer

Thanks would do just a few, a gentle glance, a second chance, a touch of romance

No riches required, no help hired simple gratitude less the attitude.

My capital now freeze, his temper appeased.

Woman and children now in his possessions yet his own family in abscission

They look out into the world seeing his lies that had been twirled becoming uncurled

Supremacy is his indeed but love deficiency caused such need that they cry to be freed.

 

 

Hating

Blackness

Darkness

Rottenness

Sickness

Distress

Dizziness

Hatefulness

Sinfulness

In a mess

Hopelessness

Forgiveness

God bless

Week 5 Creative Writing with WEA

Q; Write a scene in which two people engage in a heated quarrel, include both dialogue and descriptive body language, try to portray feelings as well as telling the reader about the characters.

He was in the house again. Sophie could hear the heavy steps of her father in the hallway, she could hear the soft scuttling of her mother in the kitchen. Tonight was going to be different. He had promised them, no more, no more arguing or fighting.

“Kristie did you need something?” David could see the papers, his papers, on his desk, they had been moved.

“No, I’m fine the children are all in bed. How were Frank and Grace? Did you fix their computer?” Kristie asked as light hearted and natural as she could, although in the back of her mind she wondered. Had she moved the papers? Had she been cleaning near there today and knocked them? Or had the children run past the desk when playing, maybe they had moved them accidently?

“What? Do you really want an answer to your stupid questions? Would I be here now if I hadn’t fixed the god dame computer? Frank and Grace are the same as yesterday when you saw them in the supermarket. They thought that I would like to hear all about the wonderful afternoon they spent talking to you in Wal-Mart” He dropped into his office chair and put his black leather bag beside it. He looked at the coffee rings on his desk, typical he thought. she’s out shopping all day and hasn’t even wiped the desk over. He dared to look over at the sink, yep washing up still waiting on the side from dinner. He had been able to fix a hard drive and explain office 2000 to an old man yet again since dinner, but what had she done? Not even the dishes.

“Would you like a coffee? Have you got much more to do?” Kristie thought it best to just change the subject. She realized too late she done that double question thing he hated so much. Her heart began to beat a pace faster she clenched her teeth. Had he noticed? Of course he’s noticed but will say anything?

David rolled his eyes to the back of his head. Why did she do that? She didn’t used to that dumb, babbling question after question. Kristie used to be funny and smart, most of all she used to be helpful. He took a deep breath in and spun his chair around to face her. Oh god she was doing the face, the face told him she was either going to walk away or start crying for no reason.

“How about you answer my question first” he began

“Sorry, which question?” Kristie couldn’t recall not answering a question, she was always careful to listen. She knew how important it was to David that you must listen. His eyes were beginning to burn into her, best look at the floor. I mustn’t give him cause to be angry with me. I mustn’t wake the children.

“Why were you snooping in my papers?” he was sure now, Kristie was defiantly up to something. She couldn’t even look him in the eye that said everything he needed to know!

Sophie hugged her legs behind her bedroom door, she listened in the darkness. Yes, he was in the house again.

My Lie

There comes a time

When you have to forget

When nothing is left

When things buried

Have been brought to light

Burned away

And the ashes scattered

To the winds

There comes a time

When nothing is left

When all sounds

Have faded away

Even that

Of goodbye

I would love to say

Part of me still cherishes you

But it would be

A lie.