The frigid feeling of his chest made her heart flutter
His breath ice – inhaling.
Their laughter blizzards.
And so they lay with the trees – all nature
becomes covered. A thick film of their love
But to be alive, perfectly preserved in ice.
Her icicle breasts heave
with passion, with love
Admiration for her Frost.
Her laughter – the tinkling sound that is snow falling
As his frigid hand runs up
down her length,
the moan of the shifting snow.
Storm gathering they fall on each other
A frenzy to thaw their hearts
The enemy of heat, hot, melt.
To become a puddle –
Until the manifestation of another
How they lust for those
Hands of ice.
It is under the fluorescent lighting that you want me,
I, your disciple,
You, an untouchable messiah
Your beckoning hand
– my lifeline, soaring high,
In the curling tendrils of smoke
From your mouth
Reads my name.
You want me –
It’s not love.
On the cold tile floor
Bodies electric – static –
I spark at your touch.
We want what is forbidden. You are my fruit –
and hearts jump and stutter.
Look to him,
Look to him
– the prophet.
Repentance is needed
to atone this false idolatry
Through blessed stigmata,
The casting of stones
from those who have
Come to me,
Dressed in white – messiah
beads of water on your head.
Baptised. New life.
But do the memories of your sins remain?
Your moan is thunder.
Lightning is your touch.
Angels can fall.
New sins. Old sins. Combine
And so, serpentine,
Walk the land,
the compact earth beneath your feet.
The shade of the towering trees,
A forest – Life and Death.
Your knees comforted by the mother –
her breath is the breeze.
Can you feel their sorrows in the rain?
They are being forgotten.
Battles past. And blood-shed too.
All for the creation to forget.
Distant memory. The trees weep.
We are sacrilegious, wasteful.
Lie in the moss,
contemplate the stars and the moon.
Your crystal core shines.
Sway with the firs,
flow with the stream
and be grounded with the mountains.
Polish the silver,
lay down your soul –
Eternal judgement be damned.
omni-benevolence an idea of the past.
Cleanse your body,
the blemished skin,
free from dirt and grime.
Through tentative eyes you watch
through musty walls –
his entrance through the door.
His immediate assertion of dominance. He perceives himself as holy.
They are the features he like the most.
The turbulent oceans those sockets hold. The tell-tale salt.
His are dead and black.
His hands are icy and foreign against
your body (his body)
your throat (his throat)
your face (his face).
The grimy hands shout
against the renewed cleanliness of your throat.
You choke on forgotten prayers.
The dirt under his fingers illustrates what he is.
It is your eyes that say ‘I love you’,
The way they sparkle when you talk.
It is your movements that say ‘I love you’,
The way you stand close to me; protective.
It is your smile that says ‘I love you’,
The bashful grin that greets me before you do.
But your mouth never forms the words –
it doesn’t seem to be able – so you say those words to
Someone else. And I hurt. But you don’t understand.
The dream is cut back to harsh reality
And I’ve come to realise
That ‘I love yous’ do not exist
Today is International Women’s Day, a day that should be celebrated worldwide. It is a day when we can appreciate and give thanks to all the strong and supportive women in our lives. However, it is also a day where we can reflect on our country’s (as well as the world’s) need to change.
Feminism is the fight for equality, and it is increasingly prevalent in our present society. In Parliament female MPs are still vastly outnumbered, the tampon tax still exists and women still fall victim to the pay gap. There are also many cases of sexual harassment in the work place. As a society we need to work towards change.
But how can we make women equal?
This is a question my year group (year 12) were trying to answer in a debate today. While there were opposing views to how equal women are now, there were clear ideas on how we can progress.
The education of people in our society is the main target. In order for genders to become equal we need to change the way we educate children, not assigning a gender to a toy or a particular profession. Furthermore, there is a vast amount of everyday sexism that occurs. This need to be directly challenged because it is a barrier to the progression of our society, if we let these remarks slip we are kept in a never-ending loop that our children will inherit. While we need to educate children, we also need to change the current population’s view as these people are who future children will learn from.
Women are not equal to men in our current society. It is a fact that is hoped will soon become the past, something that future generations will struggle to believe when they read history textbooks.
Now is the time for change. Millennials and Generation Z are the most vocal generation yet. We are standing up for change globally and will continue until an equal society is reached.
Happy International Women’s Day – thank the women who inspire you. It is a day of celebration, but also a reminder of all that is yet to come.
Spread love today and everyday, and empower yourself and those around you. ❤
Watching snow is magic,
The way the flakes float and jitter down from the sky,
Like a procession of dancers, constantly changing partners.
How the drops seem to make a bee-line for your face
The moment you decide to brave the frost.
The soft tickles and caresses that they place on your face, causing laughter and delight.
Winter’s cloak smothers the flowers and grass
But there is something serene and calming about the swirls and blizzards.
It is silent. It is peaceful in the snow.
She beats her fists against the wall
And looks towards the beckoning fingers of the Northern Sky,
The slate-grey seems to call
But she doesn’t know who, what or why.
A year later and the feeling is the same.
The work cycle is unrelenting and cold
And she has the same repetitive feeling: pain.
Dreaming of losing herself – being able to fold
Up into herself
Without agenda or destination.
There is no set place, no shelf
Where she can exist without relation.
And it is there against the cold, bleak morn
That she questions the very notion of Heaven
And the unrelenting wave of people’s scorn.
She is found dead at a quarter to seven.
Against the dull, grey skies
Black veins twist and writhe
The roots festering in the Earth
Harbouring moisture, concealing lies.
Lies that are hidden –
Except for the whispers in the breeze
That tell tales of nymphs, flowers and leaves
Those that are hidden from human eyes.
Listen to the breeze that caresses,
Faerie hands gentle and soft,
And dream of fairy-tale lands,
Alluring and free.
The trees are the guardians of the Earth,
Watching over us,
Protecting the realms.
They are life.
In between the sky and the land ,
A wolf’s jaw gapes open ,
The teeth that took Tyr’s hand.
Mortals see rocks, several streams ,
But the Gods know the thoughts
That control Fenrir’s dreams.
One day he will swallow the moon
The sun as well; jeered on by the legions of Hel
Is Ragnarok soon?
Perhaps it has already occurred
And Fenris wolf is no more
Or perhaps it is still to come.
A dark looming war.
Through mist unfathomable
And fiery caves
We worship the All-father
Sing of his grace.
For Odin is wise
And has mighty advice
After completing his
To hang from a tree
Nine days, nine nights
And to rise victorious –
He is magic.
Magic we might never know
But we know it’s there
For Grimnir has proclaimed it.
Ask Huginn and Muninn to convey your message
Joy for wisdom –
Yes, all things wise
And Odin will be rejoicing in Asgard skies.
I just wanted to make a little short post about some exciting news…I was published!
I entered a competition earlier this year and received news in July that my entry had been chosen to be published. I’m very thankful for the opportunity, and I hope to try and enter more competitions and become more confident in my writing. I’ve attached the link to the amazon page if any one wishes to check it out (there is a kindle version as well). Thank you! 🙂
Beyond the haunting silence,
where the honey-suckle does not grow,
A girl dances –
she puts on a show.
And the skeletons applaud,
the ghosts all cheer
For they know her spirit,
They know they are genuine tears.
Her pale silhouette glides through the trees
caressing the ground with her gentle feet.
And the willows bow to her
As she hurries towards her faerie meet.
On translucent wings they fly,
revelling in malicious acts
Cautiously she agrees to sign
the binding faerie pact.
Her feet have stopped dancing
she is free at last –
and as she falls asleep on the moss,
she wishes she could return to her past.
If you are King I will come to Berlin
Your grace evaded me. How are you such a thing
Of sheer elegance. You erupt in glitter
And we begin to dance the jitter-
bug, baby. Tell me your changes.
And with you I can fly to the stars
Or settle down for a life on mars.
For you, the Duke, the Hero, the King,
Allowing me to manifest so many things.
Stay as you are Starman,
And leave me to conduct the band.
Through killing fields and mass graves grow,
Hoardes of flowers, row on row
So they can remember what they have done
To be blinded by the almighty sun.
And yet they feel no regret or remorse
The people remember and with great force
Overthrow the oppression, the years of lies
And lift their souls up to the skies.
She unceremoniously puts the scissors to her hair
And hacks off large chunks
This is the start of the revolution
The age to rebel.
She fights her way through the crowd
Giving herself a new identity.
For the old person was not really her,
There is now an air of anarchy, of anger and contempt.
All the things she used to have hope for
Now crumbled around her –
You had to make your own path in life.
This age was fun
You could be what you wanted
Do what you wished and evade the law.
This age was clothes, hair and music
A way to express, explore and encapture
She loved the passion and craziness.
The old her no longer existed –
She loved being a cliché.
Hello! I have been nominated by https://thethoughtscribblersblog.wordpress.com. I am very grateful to have been nominated. I like to strive for unique writing and it is a particular niche of writing that I am very fond of.
Thank you so much for nominating me, I will aim to write more and keep this blog interesting!
The rules are as follows:
- Share the link of the blogger who has shown love to you by nominating you.
- Answer the questions.
- In the spirit of sharing love and solidarity with our blogging family, nominate 8-13 people for the same award.
- Ask them 3 questions.
This is what I have been asked:
1) What was the best moment of your life?
ANS: For me, the best moment of my life was when I went to the Celebrating David Bowie Concert in Brixton. It was a year after Bowie had died, and when I got the tickets the month before I cried. I was so happy to be in a room and meet like minded people in a celebration of a magnificent artist’s career.
2) What inspire you the most, when you bounce back into the realm of sadness?
ANS: Thinking about my dreams and ambitions. When I am sad, looking into the future, my desire to be an author, really helps me. I also write as it takes me to a place where I don’t have to think about being sad as I am immersed in my characters. I try to move on and fill my life with things that enrich it and make me happy.
3) What compelled you to blog?
ANS: I was compelled to blog because I thought that I should get some of my work out into the world, and to get some criticism. I know that I can only make my work better if I am given feedback, so a blog seemed a perfect option for me and WordPress has such a lovely community of bloggers 🙂
I am going to nominate the following people. Please check out their blogs!
My questions to you are:
1) What is your favourite theme to write about?
2) What inspired you to start writing?
3) What are your hobbies?
I like to people watch
It’s an interesting sport
I’ll sit in a public place
And simply sit and stare
People believe I’m glancing at the air.
It starts with a person
They are different, somehow
And then I’ll begin to follow,
Now on the prowl.
They do not notice me
How could they? When I am as quiet as a mouse
I follow them cautiously
All the way to their house.
Once I’m there it’s a waiting game
A play of hide and seek
Everywhere it’s the same
Looking up from the street.
I’ll slip in slyly
You won’t even know I’m there
Until all at once
I’m following you up the stairs.
And there’s no where to run
You’re at a dead end
But I’m just starting my fun.
I like to people watch
Maybe you’ll be the next one.
You inject your patriotism into your vein,
After tightening a belt around your arm
And gritting your teeth against the pain.
But all too soon it escapes;
Blood, sweat and tears export it from your body.
You try again. You smoke it, snort it
and take tabs.
But it always manages to evade you,
A shadow of what it once was.
And you are left in the dark,
What was once dear is now
meaningless. Honour, King and Country
are values from a
Men go to war never to return and
innocent blood is spilt.
And you question why you are a dying breed of
And then I saw you,
Floating on the wind
Accompanied by a cascade of your brothers.
I reach out and
You are gone, too excited to see
The world unravel for you.
The next year you return,
More sullen and subdued than before
But it is still you. I watch as everything
Decays. You kill everything you touch.
But it does not alarm me;
For I love you and always will.
And the next year is more cold and bleak than before.
The wind is cutting and cruel
And you remain hostile.
But I still love you.
All your hurt can never cut me,
You remain a constant throughout life,
a cycle of emotion.
And every year you come.
And every year you change.
Yet I will wait for you each time
Just to see your graceful ways.
Exchanges between you and me
Are like childhood games.
Cops and robbers. Name it.
There’s always me to blame.
And no matter the fight
I can’t claw my way back
It’s futile. Impossible.
My smile will always crack
Because there is no feeling in your heart,
It’s cold; a lump of lead
And no matter the tenderness,
You can never take back what you said.
And in the Autumn
I am the dying leaves.
All your threats to go
But I find you hard to grieve.
Because Spring is coming –
When you are dead and gone
And it’s among the baby’s breath
That I truly belong.
The the moon appeared through the inky blackness,
a pale ghost of the sun, faded.
The man began to writhe in pain,
pain as sharp as a thousand needles piercing his skin
The man yelped,
His face twisting into a snout.
Hair was sprouting over his body, and his eyes –
his eyes became luminous, like a cat’s.
he stumbled outside, the air whispering
the snout processing the sweet, woody aroma of wolfsbane,
and the metallic hint of blood.
The wolf in him fully emerged
the man lost in the mist
he bounded towards the scent
and leapt upon the assemble of limbs.
And the boy yelped in pain,
the man in the wolf remembered,
three full moons again when the wolf pounded on him.
Beware the silver tear.
That night he had started the vicious cycle,
of man to wolf and back again.
The wolf was still ripping the mess of limbs
but the man in him was conscious,
conscious that another man had come.
Held aloft a silver gun.
And the silver year erupted,
tearing through the lycanthrope’s heart.
The bitter sweet feeling of death
Relief flooded the man in him,
and with one last howl left this world,
– Georgia Carr, 2015
One day you are here
Bright and beautiful and full of life.
The next –
You cover the ground. Withered.
That delicate pink now
Trodden – mud stained.
That short life cycle
Repeated each year.
Beauty a short, fragile thing.
A re-awakening each year
Our beauty blossoming, dormant,