It's strange how feelings come and go, then come around again. When I was a student I did some work surrounding poetry writing, and on my way home in the car i thought - i'll dig that out. i want to share it on the blog because otherwise, i think, it's just sitting in my old uni ring-binder on the bottom shelf in my room. we were given tasks each week where we had to write a poem based on some discussions we'd had in class. we had to write a sonnet, a song... and so on. obviously the poems were about what i was going through at the time, they are still hugely important to me, but i thought the feelings that dredged them out of my head and onto a page had passed. lately i've been thinking that people pass but feelings never really do. the people they could be about might alter but they are the same beast underneath.

There is one i wrote below. a poem 'of reference' which is built with other pieces from lyrics, from other poems, from the television and then there is a bit that's just me. i wonder if you can spot it.

On a wing

I do not trust it - it has wings, and lacks and lacks again
but then
it turns to wake you this morning with lilies,
tumble-dried and wet with occasional water.
Let this rain be on the lies
which make you sick with sleeplessness.
Let it fall and sink until it settles
on your plane-seat stomach
on your arm-rest guts.

This feeling is, and then it cannot be
because you will not let it,
yet it allows itself, and here's your trouble.
It wants to move, only for a second
it sweeps you up on a sticky roller
and you're covered in straight-up-beige,
which 'does exactly what it says
on the tin.'
You are flat to this wall
lost underneath stickles of paint.

Here we have this newness -
look at it, letting us breathe,
our lungs relax,
we are alone now.
We watch television-
my arm around you
looser than before, and i can feel
your top lip on my forehead.
We touch the feeling for a moment until we
watch it move slowly
arching its back,
edging away
follow it
follow it
chase it now,
run, run on, run through, run back to it
you wanted it to wait.
too late-
remember, it has wings.