Poetry from Fevers of the Mind Anthology (2019) from Rachel Cunniffe

Digiart, Composing, Book Cover
Homeless

Under blue orange neon our faces gaudy
Shadows hold your mood in sharp dark lines.
We could kiss here, reckless.
Your features would soften
to threaten gentleness
where your lips only exist as shadow.
We're here hidden in shadows
from a world of gaudy
city centres by the dark and it's gentleness
that covers up the lines
of ageing and softens
what once was reckless.
I say it's not reckless
to hug your own shadow.
In your own hands your shape will soften.
Away from the gaudy
spotlight, statistics and headlines
you will head towards gentleness
without my gentleness.
I will become a shadow,
a dancing black outline,
silent and reckless,
darting between pools of gaudy
yellow and watching them soften
to the blue of cities at night. Soften
again to gentleness
not brash and gaudy
as a daylight kiss, but a shadow
confidential and reckless
like not yet drawn lines,
not yet written lines.
Me, I must vanish and soften,
a fairy Godmother, reckless,
brushing with gentleness.
Watching you cast a shadow
as you stride away from the gaudy
to threaten gentleness.
You soften now, the reckless,
lines that shadow your face, no longer gaudy.

Redefinition

1.
The ghost of a man's arm around my waist
is more than real, 
The span of his hand,
spider web safe, like home.
Pins and needles climb my spine.
I'm not numb any longer.
Our conversation is ordinary,
carefully chosen,
words trip from ambiguous lips
The crossword clue, "kiss" (8).
I blush and giggle,
tell tale signs... I think.
Drinking in his scent, that morning
I kept my breathing regular. Thrilled.

2.
Last time I felt like that
it was over a woman.
Look but don't touch.
I stared so hard I was giddy and sick.
Next came solitude.
Neutrality. Armed and dangerous.
She returned in a dream.
We were guests at a wedding
no bride, no groom.
She hung pipistrelle-like from the ceiling,
drank champagne without spilling a drop.
She took a walk, no one seemed to notice.
I watched for foot prints of glue.
Not a trace.
*
We put the past behind us



Bio from 2019:
Rachel Cunniffe is based in the North East of England and has written a wide range of poetry since being a teenager, has an MA in Writing Studies gained in 1995 from Edgehill University College. Real jobs stifled her creativity for 16 years and she has recently been able to partially retire and spend more time writing again. She has been a member of several creative writing groups one of which has been in existence since 1991. She read regularly at the now sadly no more Callender Poetry Festival in September during that time for about 9 years. She lives with a large black dog and two cats. 

By davidlonan1

David writes poetry, short stories, and writings that'll make you think or laugh, provoking you to examine images in your mind. To submit poetry, photography, art, please send to feversofthemind@gmail.com. Twitter: @davidLOnan1 + @feversof Facebook: DavidLONan1

Leave a comment

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s