Poetry is awkward
I went through my writing archives about a month ago and came across a whole series of poems that I’d written. Most of the poems were written in a time where I was struggling with recent sobriety and the demons…
Graphite stain – day 1
The clink of cutlery The distant sounds of “happy birthday” The deep ache in my heart that death brings The pull and tug of hope that grows daily within a womb that isn’t mine. Sharon Paine November 2020
30 days to get it write
Many years ago I got into the habit of setting myself challenges – a month without booze, 100 days of creativity, 30 days of gratitude. Somewhere, inexplicably, I stopped, abruptly on something like day 97 of a 100 day challenge.…
I’m learning what it means to be a brand-new “smom”, & I’m loving it
Being a step-mother, or smom, as the cool kids call it, means having to adapt quickly to change and chaos. My stepson moved to Cape Town last year, in March. Nobody saw it coming. We had decided that the school…
I’m totes emosh… so I wrote a poem… of sorts
I’m no expert at emotional vulnerability other than chronically wearing my heart on my sleeve, or face, or neck. Big red blotches of emotion betray me. Sometimes even when I feel completely in control they appear and whisper my secrets.…
Crash.
Crawling up my bonnet Boots crunch Gravel against glass Face up Back down Scream out Rain pelts down Soaking me to my soul Wet dissolves fabric Flesh to metal Freezing Shivering Screaming The sky is a horrible colour Drained of…
Hunting The Moon
I climbed out of the window to hunt the moon hood up hands tucked into the hoody that smells of you toes curl in new cowboy boots I climbed out of the window to hunt the moon the Khoi believe…
Store Stalker
White vest Mom jeans Squeaky sneakers I hear you Before I see you Trolley full of carbs Head full of dreams Screaming toddler by your side White vest Mom jeans Rattling trolley I smell you Before I see you Baby…
Warm & Cold
Your freckled fingers Wrap around your mug Warm Your scattered words Wrap around my heart Cold Only the truth Your brown eyes promised Warm Only you can’t Your freckled mouth lies Cold Sharon Paine June 2015
Storm Chaser
Do you remember Chasing storms Hand in hand Facing waves Clinging to railings I remember How you held me Afraid I’d be washed away With you I was fearless I wanted to be in the storm Hands white with cold…
