the way he leans

Tags

angela, bashfulbadgersblog, blog, brian, buffalo tom, claire danes, devon gummersall, jared leto, jordan catalano, late at night, my so-called life, rickie, school, wilson cruz

in thrall to the notion

of a boy at school,

whose languid unfocused gaze

as he leans back against a wall

and releases a long extended sigh,

indicative of wasted days and nights

and boredom unenhanced by intellect,

can electrify her with desire,

and freeze her with terror

at one and the same time.

suddenly she is fraught and tense

with night-before-the-

exam apprehension.

her hands tingle and sweat

and her thoughts seem to halt abruptly

without warning, then resume

so that they crash into each other,

like items held up on a conveyor.

About Angela/Jordan/Rickie/Rayanne/Brian from My So-called Life, so brilliantly played by Claire Danes, Jared Leto/Wilson Cruz/A J Langer/Devon Gummersall. Song is ‘Late at Night’ by Buffalo Tom.

Previous MSCL poems in trilogy here and here.

Thanks to all for reading this month’s poems. Phew, another napowrimo over.

vanquished

Tags

bashfulbadgersblog, blog, carrie mathison, claire danes, homeland, peter quinn, poem, poem in a white ribbed vest, rupert friend

he was broken, beaten,

almost into submission,

his limbs disobedient,

recalcitrant children

he has to drag along behind him.

 

his brain short-circuiting,

supplying the wrong words,

or nothing at all.

a blankness in his mind

where reason used to be.

 

it seems now

he is always

in the process

of falling.

and her arms

are weary

of catching him.

 

she has no strength left

to hold him up,

never mind the will.

he’s sapped it all

over long sad months

of not trying hard enough.

 

her debt can never be repaid.

the account is written in his blood.

his body bears the scars

of unrequited love.

 

can he help

wanting more

than a kind hand

on his shoulder,

a soft voice

in his ear every

now and then?

 

can he help

seeking to lay

his head down

on her beating heart,

to just close his eyes

for a minute,

and breathe her in?

Poem about Quinn & Carrie. Photo of Rupert Friend as Peter Quinn in Homeland.

Please also see secret squirrel blog on Quinn (Rupert Friend)/Carrie (Claire Danes)/Homeland.

hieroglyphic

Tags

bashfulbadgersblog, blog, poem, poem in a white ribbed vest

writing done in the dark

that you can barely decipher in daylight.

lines crawling diagonally up the page

and colliding with each other

as if blindfolded and spun by the shoulders.

 

squashed and crooked letters,

unfinished thoughts

snaking out of control

pell mell and gung ho

as dodgems at the fair.

 

words escaping the edges of the paper

rivulets of spilled ink

or runaway trains in old

grey TV westerns.

 

ideas that crowd your head

and will not be denied:

clamouring like vendors at the rialto

robustly proclaiming their wares:

make it mine, make it mine,

make it mine.

 

probationer

Tags

bashfulbadgersblog, blog, poem, poem in a white ribbed vest, writing group

a newcomer

at the writing group

upsets the balance,

the pattern and flow

of read and response,

the kid glove critics

handing out biscuits.

she has to feel her way

past cold shoulders,

gently, a blind person

in a maze of hazards,

nervous as a lamb

in unfamiliar pasture.

root canal

Tags

bashfulbadgersblog, blog, dentist, poem, poem in a white ribbed vest, root canal

the medicine applied

to my tooth releases

a steady stream

of bitterness

all night long –

an old maid’s lament –

when no prince charming

has been forthcoming

and she withers,

unplucked, on the bough.

 

my soon-to-be ex-

tooth grizzles

and complains,

a fretful child

whose whimpering

I can’t ignore –

it’s raising hell

in an unsupervised corner.

 

the earthiness

of oil of cloves

mollifies,

grants a brief respite,

a shoulder squeeze

of sympathy

from someone

otherwise undemonstrative.

trespass

Tags

bashfulbadgersblog, blog, poem, poem in a white ribbed vest

something meek and endearing

about his hesitancy,

his fear of reprisals.

he pauses

as if controlled

by an unseen index

finger depressing

a stop button.

stands just inside

the threshold,

a child uncertain

of its welcome,

wary of unwittingly

setting foot somewhere

out of bounds.

peripheral

Tags

bashfulbadgersblog, belonging, blog, family, loneliness, poem, poem in a white ribbed vest

so lonesome the sound

of someone else’s fireworks

on the eve of a blank new year.

momentary constellations

of colour and light

glimpsed through a crack

in the living room curtains

you’ve drawn against

the world’s cold draft.

 

you exist on the edges

like a fox foraging

in the city night.

an interloper’s sense

of unbelonging owns you,

points its finger,

dials a number,

makes a report.

 

morning after

Tags

bashfulbadgersblog, blog, mist, poem, poem in a white ribbed vest

a reproachful mist

drenched the day in grey,

defeating the sun,

deadening all,

colour, sound,

subduing the landscape

as a cloth around the knocker

on the door of the bereaved.

 

it lingered languidly

into the afternoon

like an overnight party guest

draped extravagantly

across a three-seater sofa.

outstaying his welcome,

lounging about the living room

the day after the night before

as if expecting something more –

coffee or breakfast

or hair of the dog.

 

and the oatmeal sky ached

as if with the memory of rain

and the summer was suddenly,

irretrievably, lost.

daytripper

Tags

bashfulbadgersblog, blog, bob marley, poem, poem in a white ribbed vest, reggae

walking on a chalk hillside.

the going is deceptively

treacherous.

oasthouses in the valley

tip their tipsy hats to us,

a village dozes, mistily

picturesque in the distance.

picnic on a scarred slope

between stands of hawthorn.

 

everything you set down

slides and rolls away,

prompting swearing and

a general loss of temper.

reach out sodden cheese and

tomato sandwiches from

crumpled packs of tin foil,

flasks of tea, thin and lukewarm

with the instant plastic flavour

of a summer day’s outing.

 

arguments and alliances,

reggae on a cheap transistor

radio swinging on our hips,

sunshine through a speaker,

rescuing the day from a bad mood.

Song is ‘Zimbabwe’ by Bob Marley.

transported

Tags

229, bashfulbadgersblog, blog, buses, clock tower, transport

a hazy window view

from the top

of a double decker

of a pub sign

in olde worlde script,

romanticised by grime.

you are on diversion,

and so miss your stop.

the police warily watch

the school kids muster,

hands poised on radios,

alert set on amber,

while at the clock tower

the red buses

dance around each other

in unintended

synchronicity.