Author: poetryfest

I envy belief,
I envy the believer,
I envy
With everything in me.
The way you believe
That’s how strong my envy goes deep.

I envy the comfort in it most,
Your belief that someone somewhere has your best interest at heart.
I envy the simplicity,
You do your best, and someone else will do the rest for you.
I envy the peace of mind,
Your peace in knowing your belief is right
I envy the absolute certainty,
That you are on the side of truth.

I envy you
Because I was once like you,
I tasted the ease of true belief,
But my belief
Betrayed me
It left me cold, alone, and bleeding out on the street
So I never will again
Get the privilege to innocently believe.

LIZBETH:

He raises his sails
On the sun-drenched seas
Commands all on deck
Like he could ever catch me.

We shall not be overtook!
I call to my crew.
No brother of mine
Can outsail you!

On the shore there be roast meat,
Rack of lamb with mint jelly,
Grapes of the gods.
I drool. Pat my belly.

Onward! He gains!
Put your backs into it, please.
Sea Women, rise up!
No more down on our knees!

No more man-splaining
Or feeling not good enough.
Let’s prove we are better
Made up of strong stuff.

Sea swells in a fist
A salty seaweed spray
I tilt my head back
Let all doubts wash away.

Change tack in a pinch
Bring the sails around
Seize all the good wind.
Brother near runs aground.

My right raises up
Tastes the wind with her tongue

HATTIE:

“Sea Women, Unite!
Let’s work like a drum.

Same heartbeat.

Together we rise!
No bickering, ladies!
Let Lizbeth’s brother capsize!”

LIZBETH:

I bow low to Hattie
My friend in arms
The sea bows, too
None resist her charms.

Delight splits my lips.
The proof of my worth
As we rip through the seas
In command of my berth

I remember asking Father
Put me in charge of a fleet
I am strong and ready
Steady on my feet.

He wrinkled his brow
Ordered me fitted for dresses
Said I had, “needlepoint to attend to
Stay out of men’s messes.”

All the times my father
Bragged to me of his son.
Were he but here
See my battle ‘bout won

“Let’s show Captain Broderick
Who owns these seas,
Sea Women!”

SEA WOMEN

“Here, Here!”

HATTIE:

“Force him down on his knees!”

LIZBETH:

“Just There! Cut his wind.
Capsize him, if you please.
Brother’s last song is sung.

A CREW MEMBER

“Broderick’s fallen, my liege.”

LIZBETH:

“Seafaring goddesses,
You’ve done excellent work!”

HATTIE:

“Aye, mateys, true
We’ve driven Broderick berserk.”

LIZBETH:

“Aye, look at those wimps
Bailing their vessel
Father’s favorite. Hmph!”

HATTIE:

“He’s to me nothing special.”

LIZBETH:

Wrapping arms around
my courageous crew
I rally. Pat backs.
“There be none like you.”

A CREW MEMBER:

“Avast! There’s the shore!”

HATTIE:

And there’s the saloon!

LIZBETH:

“We’ve done it, my friends!
Behold, Brother, my moon!

I pray for people
to thrive and make our world an
even better place.

I don’t need an 8K
flatscreen tv that
takes up an entire wall.
I need affordable housing,
livable wages, and no corrupt
utilities telling me I must pay
more because I crossed
the county line.

I don’t need the newest
writer’s tool Meta insists will
validate my craft.
I need affordable housing,
livable wages, and no seventy
hour work weeks zapping
every ounce of my life
force to offset the
difference.

I don’t need a heated back
wrap or a cheap imitation
massage gun.
I need affordable housing,
livable wages, and no politicians
falsely promising me access
to affordable health
insurance.

I don’t need tarot cards, crystals,
and guides to witchcraft.
I need affordable housing,
livable wages, and no
bookstore convincing me
all problems are internal
and fixable

I don’t believe in God but I pray to shampoo bottles like rosaries made of plastic and despair.

The love of my life has gone. I told him so. He smiled like a guillotine falling in slow motion.

Day one: I wash you out with water hot as molten copper, the bottle heavy as a collapsed star in my trembling constellation of callused fingers.

Day fourteen: half empty, a dried hourglass where time bleeds backwards into the drain like liquid archaeology.

Day thirty: I pour the last into a candle’s hungry mouth and strike a match like lightning divorcing from the sky.

You burn strawberry-sweet, smoke rising like prayers, a crematorium of memory.

Your pillow exhales ghosts thick as opium dreams.

I sleep with my face pressed into cotton that tastes like the underside of thunder.

I find your sock behind the radiator—

a small suicide note written in wool and abandonment.

The receipt crumples in my coat: £47.83, our last supper itemised like evidence at love’s autopsy.

Strawberries

New shampoo, alien scent.

Each wash feels like drowning the last cathedral in an ocean of amnesia, like baptising myself in the wrong god’s tears.

Did he cry for me?

I can’t remember if your eyes were amber or autumn dying, if your laugh sounded like glass breaking beautifully or wind through cemetery gates.

Then:

the 8:15 train, a metal serpent swallowing distance. You, three seats away, still breathing in colours I’ve forgotten how to see.

I touch my scalp—

hair like wheat after wildfire—

and smell strawberries burning, remember the candle ceremony…

how I thought flame could divorce us from gravity.

But here you are, turning pages like prayer wheels, alive as an opened wound,

whilst I’ve been measuring grief in millilitres, drowning in bottles that hold more than

soap—

Amber-warm, yet forgotten,
like the last snow before March marches in…
I don’t think of it too often,
for it might carry me away with the wind.
It lies there,
feather-light,
in a drawer—
the last memory of us.
Lullaby-sweet,
yet forgotten,
like the first poem I penned.

I sit quietly at the board,
My pieces arranged with care,
Though my moves feel uncertain,
As if another were pulling the strings.

Every glance a pawn,
Each word a knight,
Rotating, moving too quickly,
Then moving too slow,
The game never still enough,
To know if it’s real or not.

I use to play fiercely,
Always a queen’s gambit,
Always a trap laid beneath
The smooth surface of a smile.

But here with you,
I feel myself waiting for the check,
Anticipating the sharpness of betrayal.
I know the rules;
The quiet betrayals,
The subtle pushes.
There is no exchange of words but everything hurts.

Is it just another round of calculated moves,
Or are we building something,
Something where I can let my guard down?

You say your heart is open,
But i’ve seen hearts open,
Only to be crushed,
Squeezed until the blood drips dry,
Turned over on the board
Like a forgotten piece.

So don’t blame me,
As I question each step,
Wondering if this is the beginning of a game,
Or the end of another loss.
I wonder, is love really this fragile?
Or am I simply playing with ghosts,
Afraid to breathe too deep,
In case it all slips away.

I’ll call cheque,
But will you meet me at chequemate?

The road ahead is long for me,
Yet I trust what lies beyond it.
And I won’t impede your path,
As you continue on your own journey.

You’re free to follow your path;
I now choose to follow mine.
Because at the end of the day,
Isn’t that what this is all about?

I was swept away by deep emotions,
Feelings I surrendered to.
Too much optimism, too much desire—
But now I see with newfound clarity.

I gave the best of me,
Without question, without hesitation.
I shared my victories, my wounds, my truths,
Parts of myself that were long concealed.

The ground beneath me has given way,
Crumbling and collapsing.
I’ve fallen into that void
Where your colors cease to be.

And while I go through the motions,
However long it takes,
I’ll take my time surveying the aftermath,
Learning what I can from the fragments left behind.

In time, I know I’ll heal.
I’ll recover and rise again.
I honor what was real,
As I release what’s no longer mine.

I release all those dreams,
The future I once imagined.
Like ashes spread in the sea,
I watch them drift away with love.

I won’t vanish and I won’t fade.
I’ll rise again, better than before.
I’m still rebuilding, but I’m becoming,
Because the universe is receiving me.

You’ll never know the depths of my grief,
Or how I suffered in silence.
But I’m thankful for all of it,
For it made me wiser, and I remain open to love.

I let go of this heartbreak, return it to the stars—
Without bitterness, without resentment.
I keep my hope, I keep my belief,
That the universe is receiving me.

And perhaps one day,
All of this may reach you in some mysterious way.
But that’s not my intent—
Because my purpose is to heal and keep moving forward.

As this chapter ends and the page is turned,
I look forward to what the future holds.
Because deep down I hold onto this conviction:
The universe is receiving me.

And sometimes—
The universe sends something back.

I would let you eat me alive,
Devour me whole, and
Digest me completely.

I would let you set me ablaze-
Bright lights engulfing me;
I’d burn to a crisp.

You could carry me to sea,
Drag me down, drown me,
And I’d still thank you.

You took her first,
So far away…
If I went next, from here
to Her,
I’d go.

Oh, wrath of Death,
My body’s yours.
Take me- your plaything –
Don’t hold back now!

Swallow, sink or smolder,
Just stop my sorrow.

Swiftly send me to my heart.

So predictable like the rain but
love doesn’t make it storm any less.

Your sadness, so beautiful,
your brokenness sings me to you—
fragile like the waves you
break on the shore,
while I try to hold you
in my hands, fading into shells,
a place we try to make home too.

How could I have known
there were really twelve of you,
and one night you would find another
seat at a table where there would be more
food to be peeled, shucked, devoured?

Bleed my hands to wood and play me,
puppet master, string me to life—
animate my heart, cartoon red and ghoulish pink—
but what was worse,
we loved each other most.