Caillte (Lost) by Patricia Walsh

the curly mind linguistically innovative poetry - weird & risky

Nothing is enabled to search for you,

after such a long time, a phone call misdirected.

Interrupting your company, a satisfied life,

not understanding literature, seeking refills.

 ..

When you flew, you flew far.

Eschewing an invitation to sit with me.

Navigating through the lost exam, intelligence trumped

but not to click with me, wasting decency.

 ..

After so long, I state my case.

Not expecting absence, or squared existence.

Children rising and calling you blessed,

a price to pay if I am eventually right.

 ..

Burning bicycles in the heat.

Bus in the exact destination trundles on regardless

of five, ten minutes, none of my business

forgetting disks, unlike my demeanor.

 ..

If things were favorable, I would

break your domicile, satisfy my ambition

stalled for so long, fearing another

injection to the heart, numbed to perfection.

 ..

Waking in the morning sun, settling scores

in the…

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Paint Stripper by Patricia Walsh

the curly mind linguistically innovative poetry - weird & risky

This corrosion, for better bearing,ended ,

stench of solvent above the flower box

flavours distended, unwatered, to demise.

 

I once feared being pounced on,.

people doing other than eating.

Minding their business, chatting to content.

 

Esoteric art hangs on the wall.

Selling for an orchestra, singing well,

enjoying the radio mumbling overhead.

 

Looking out on the cycle path, saying prayers

against the river’s deluge, a fractured coursing

still only in one direction, catching fire.

 

The sun dances on various monuments,

sinking drinks al fresco, eating ad nauseum,

memoirs of the stony dead staying regardless.

 

Sweet wild flowers inhabit the tables,

scent bred out for better bearing

allergens eaten to hold for dear life.

 

A portmanteau life, an ersatz existence,

eat and somehow leave, bereft of information

imparted, sightseeing for dear life.

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Keyhole Surgery by Patricia Walsh

the curly mind linguistically innovative poetry - weird & risky

Invasive in the least, a desired reckoning

transgendered allowance scalds my thighs

confusing the enemy, a silver matrimony

sinks suitors before they even arrive.

 ..

Complicated delights undo the best of us,

explanations sing over alcoholic joy

early morning questions call it a night

following necessities of reputation, adhered.

 ..

Each one is better than the last.

Whittling the pencil down to the stump

scouting for erasers, inexpensive

at most, on the mercy of the giver.

 ..

Periodic bollards did work, once.

Punctuating railings for our own safety.

The white decrepit house miraculously stays

come heaven or high tide, a desired building.

 ..

Elephant in the lobby.  Limestone plinths

remain, among hanging baskets, decorous.

Sweeping awards where none was intended,

resting on the street among the skater boys.

 ..

Deep as humans can be, I concede defeat.

Writing out of existence, boredom, stalled,

paid to fight the presence of indifference,

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Scream by Fiona

the curly mind linguistically innovative poetry - weird & risky

A hot red scream
swoops on
a sandstorm tornado,
abrading my cheeks and howling round distant dunes
to obliterate the words you mouthed
beyond this one closed door:
it hasn’t worked; things will have to be re-done.
The ether dripped on gauze, in eyes;
the struggling, the holding down
and
drowning.
The silent masked figures are
in the high white room
oblivious to no and no and no.
I’m forcing myself to swim through murk with weighed-down limbs,
waking as waves of pain
erase my body;
as I struggle to
bear witness
to                                                          ,
to blank eyes I can’t reach,
to anyone familiar
long gone.
No amount of comforting can stop
the presence of that absence;
the fall into the ice-cold
room in the belly of
the scream.

The scream
room, in the belly of
the fall into the ice-cold.
The presence of that absence
no amount of comforting can…

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Carbon Footprint by Zöe Sîobhan Howarth-Lowe

the curly mind linguistically innovative poetry - weird & risky

In my lifespan,

so far reaching 22 years,

I have owned 3 computers,

3 games consoles (despite the fact I don’t really use them)

and 3 mobile phones,

the first of which would have lasted forever, but,

in a freak accident my dad ran his car over it.

I can’t drive, but I did have a moped –

but I crashed twice and got rid.

I have voted in 1 election – (you made me)

but I won’t say who for. (Yellow)

I can ride a bike, swim (just about), speak French

and have that crazy allele that lets me roll up my tongue.

I have drank 0 cups of tea, smoked 0 cigarettes –

the only nail polish I own is black.

I have eaten:

1516 Apples

1232 Loaves of Bread

243 tins of Baked Beans

3125 Carrots

669 kilos of Spuds

181 kilograms of Chocolate (mostly without you)

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Making the Monster by Oonah V Joslin

the curly mind linguistically innovative poetry - weird & risky

Now Mr. Frankenstein

………………Adam is my name. No father watched my infant days
………………and no Eve soothes my sorrows.

After multiple transplants such as yours
one might expect mood swings
hair loss, weight gain;
almost anything.

………………Where are my friends and relations?
………………Even Satan had fellow-devils to encourage him.

I know you suffered
initial rejection
but the thing is you survived;
you’re alive.

………………I am solitary and detested.
………………Even you turn from me in disgust.

Your body parts should have rejected
each other long ago
yet here you are, sewn into this modern world,
preserved by the potent pill of popularity.

……………..Of what strange nature is knowledge;
……………..it clings to the mind when it has once seized on it

You have engendered horror, fascination and empathy.
Science created the monster but we gave it oxygen;
allowed it to thrive and grow and…

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Elizabeth Bishop by Gareth Writer-Davies

the curly mind linguistically innovative poetry - weird & risky

Elizabeth (NV = 7, CV = 5, VV = 2, FL = 5)

Elizabeth is a name that gives abilities in all mental pursuits. A woman possessed of a wide variety of intellectual interests, Elizabeth has a very introspective side to her nature, and will find no problem spending time alone investigating what beckons to her. At the same time, her relationships are most important to her sense of personal completion. She requires a partner who will be supportive of her more subjective moments and enjoy sharing her urge to travel and explore all of life’s many possibilities.

http://www.randomhouse.com/rhpg/promos/hiddentruth/excerpts/elizabeth.html

BISHOP

It derives from the word “episkopos”, translating as the overseer, from the elements “epi”, meaning on or over, plus “skopein”, to look. The early Christians adopted
Read more: http://www.surnamedb.com/Surname/Bishop#ixzz326tgwzdu

Could have been Liz or Lizzy

Or Eliza

Or Beth, maybe Betty

Betsy would be an option

Bessie or Bess

……….

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From Ypres August 1914 to the Military Burial Ground Kirkee circa 1944 by Jonathan Beale

the curly mind linguistically innovative poetry - weird & risky

The trees root grew from the garden at Kirkee – where the storm passed many years ago. The Acer tree (here and now) bears its cardio vascularity; pulsating; existing in its own private inertia. Leafless.

The heart beats on down the line, overlapping.  Something, someone, somewhere remains here today.  The ruins remain of a wiser day, the once angry voices are lost now in the wilderness of an ignorance now forgotten overwhelmed by a newer time.  The tongue like the snake hangs as a participle, to trip and never to really say: and why?  The laws that govern and those nomological that are blind to all as are the cells that dance upon the eye and ear and leave after the first bite.

I looked into the pool, the river, the ocean, the Doric columns that framed me in some infinity,  I thought, is this me? Or just…

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The funeral pyre burning through the night by Jonathan Beale

the curly mind linguistically innovative poetry - weird & risky

Out of the firelight everything was black and silver, black island, rocks and trees carved cleanly out of the sky and silver river with a flashing light rippling back and forth along the lip of the fall.” ― William Golding, the inheritors

They came, they came, and they came to pass.
Watching, from the distant hills. – Unseen.
They mused on a question, not yet known or understood.
Yet feeling a ‘why’ as a belly full lust or hunger.
They talked back and gave something other
than heat – who were those ‘others?’
And why were they doing what they did?
Unlike us, and how are we…are we different?

We could not allow their primitive state to exist.
It may corrupt ours – what if ‘they’ yes ‘they’
Proved stronger than us – we had to use our ‘fire.’
Inside, we struck them in what to us was right,
‘the…

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the pilgrim see autumn fields from St James Way by Mandy Macdonald

the curly mind linguistically innovative poetry - weird & risky

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