I’m not his muse, and I can never be.                        

No time, circumstance or chance will let me.                       

After all he gives and gets, loves, regrets,                 

he remains my teacher and I, the taker.                    

He is anarchist and challenging creator,                   

who advocates the belief I have no need

to be seen and posed as a...

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Time is rolling on and just to let those who read and comment on my poetry know that I am moving away from my alter ego Katypoetess to using my own name....it will be a gradual move and hopefully a positive one as I need to do this to be taken seriously as a poet. ? 

More poetry to follow soon....

Katy

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Solitude 

I remain free

my own lost saviour

a follower of no-one

sorcering a new novena.

Awakening

I still storms

in steadfast spirit

a respectable sinner

proclaiming the illicit.

Doubt

I demure uncertain

face reveals and veils

heart throes stone to flesh

keeping close my seven devils.

Fortitude

I am graced

with all v...

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As the indecorous breeze does billow

ebb and flow of his dreams,

swelling a deep desire

for her to return

within each tide

of hesitation.

As the unconscious ark of salvation,

sinks slow beneath his sleep,  

drowning a deep desire

for her to return

he lies laconic

of malediction.

© Katypoetess 2016

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I am graced

with all virtues from history

my archetype immortalised

amidst this scripture of mystery.

© Katypoetess 2016

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I demure uncertain
face reveals and veils
heart throes stone to flesh
keeping close my seven devils.  

 
©  Katypoetess 2016

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I still storms

in steadfast spirit

a respectable sinner

proclaiming the illicit.

©  Katypoetess 2016

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I remain free

my own lost saviour

a follower of no-one

sorcering a new novena.

©  Katypoetess 2016

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His unravelling - of sacred shroud.

The suffocation of

her melancholic madness

by cloth of self-belief

blesses a new beginning.

The emancipation from

Poetess to temple Papess

his ruin miraculously raised

to unrepentant penitent.

The revealing complete

unveils fervent holiness,

his new bride of a Christ

in divine ambiguity.

His lost gospel ...

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I search

for your soul

in every passing stranger's face.

Knowing it is too late.

I dreamt

we met again

soothing all the pain between us.

The cruellest of dreams.

I crucify

time through mourning

yet it cannot hold back dawning,

of my emancipation.

© Katypoetess 2016

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Let me bleed out a moment’s release,

from this contemptible inner peace.

my tears are too clear of midnight ink,

my thoughts are apathetic and indistinct.

I look for omens, cracks in bedroom mirrors,

for owls, magpies - among nests of unfamiliar

I churlishly spread my coquettish legs

seducing any passing stranger’s death.

To be touched - trembled by fi...

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They say that the worst kind of grieving

is when the lost antagonist is still alive,

whether sudden as a spring swallow’s dive

or a slow wintered bewilderment in the leaving.

Buried, burnt or butchered cruelly out of heart

that did endure with vexation and veneration,  

fear of being alone or guilt of being causation

of their final yield to the wind that blows love apart.

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If I had
one wish
then it
would not be
for a kiss,

but to look
into the storm
of your eyes again,

and listen.

Katypoetess 2016

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I amble amongst the snake trail
of crowds and loud streets
of consumer rights and political fights.

Then he came and  asked me
whether I had any faith at all
and I shook my head in a lie
while he thrust a pamphlet
of salvation into my hands. 

 And he said "Are you religious
as I am not and never was because
it binds you too tight but do try
as you might to turn to God my love...

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Acquire my peace within yourselves

She is nobody’s disciple,

a dither of image and noise,

amongst everybody’s daily causality.

No crowds will gather,

as she looks into the eyes,

that lie tied, and tired in front of her.

She is every colour

of skin, every age, every weather,

every obedience and whim, with no morality.

Dwelling in a magdala

of imm...

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She whispers an aberration,

with mouth of soot stained metal.

Pointing out deluded self-doubt,

muzzling lies with targeted fire.

Seizing breath without sound,

at least four Turks and a Russian

With little or no repercussion.

Synapsed heart from sharp to steel.

Drinking shots after taking shots,

murdering time as it flies fast home,

past window of his decamped rea...

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From Emperor to Vampire, then a journey to resting place of amoral monk.

Dwelling in ruined fort, living in a sin of retired idleness. Momentary desires

to follow the birds south, he spends his days tending a garden of lilies in the desert.

Anthony holds his poetess captive for too long without his hands, she now writhes

naked and tied to column of lost temple. Tresses burnt dark ...

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I arrive. Quickly turning bedroom from Rome into Alexandria.
Skin up, pop cork to dilute and delight blood with Bollinger.
Determined to mix up a confidence to conquer, my
Goddess summoning up a strip tease of your morality.

“The triple pillar of the world transformed into a strumpet’s fool.”*

Coiling concubine - arabesque around your thighs to
nourish exotic fantasy. Arching p...

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Drowning.

When love

cuts deep

with grieving,

one immersion

bleeds into

the next.

If she gave

herself

in forgiveness –

would her shadow

follow her?

She unconsciously

weaves threads

of the past

summoning shroud

of the future.

Touched twice

in the laver

submerged in her

saviour’s perdition.

Condemned to

cold is...

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From Emperor to Vampire, journeying through to final place of amoral monk.

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Hearts heave a relief

of homecoming.

Anticipation smiles

on silent beds

of every young child.

Wreaths of activity

yearning for a peace

that never arrives.

Following evening star

in slipshod time

of glittered hope

and gifted uncertainty

that reflects

in each other's eyes.

©  Katypoetess 2015

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The head of a rose

dry and broken

like a soft word spoken

which was not heard.

The head of a rose

petals close together

intense love held forever

which was not seen.

The head of a rose

leaves are tattered

a life lies scattered

which was not known. 

 ©   Katypoetess 2015     

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Swaying

a sweetness,

trespassing

salt-cracked hearts

that pass in prophecy.

Stumbling

upon angels,

awaiting

steadfast negligence

of tranquil demands.

Rolling

stony silence,

coveting

words that ache

to be born

into my arms.

Time ticks wanton.

©  Katypoetess 2015

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Tear off my guilt,
tie me to your salvation,
innocence will fall,
at your feet of vindication.

Katypoetess 2015

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His discipline
was her most
desired mercy.

He subdued
and elated her
simultaneously.

He affronted
her with exquisite
hedonism.

She kept him
with sacrilegious
possession.

Reminiscent
of a memory,
she was yet
to treasure.

In their intimacy
he humiliated her,
until she learnt
humility.

Unfounded –
they remained unfound.

In ecstasy.

© Katypoet...

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He was her all black and blue

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I cannot speak to you anymore.

Though over these clay hearted years,

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I guess it all comes from

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Forgive me as I dip my pen into blood of the past.

Memories.  Hanging bright as the whitest moon

in my blackened, indecorous thoughts.

I was his lover, his muse, his friend,

his counsel over secret canal side walks.

Both sharp suited, professional by day,

we drove fast through boundaries

into love first after taking vows of never.

Towpath widened into world of champagn...

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I cannot feel your pain.

Your body is numb,

Your mind in hibernation.

For now, let yourself rest

In June’s heat and chatter.

It will take time to be

that knight again

that I cherish so.

But I am there.

Within the silence

I am there.

 ©  Katypoetess 2015

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There are these times of the year

that hunt and haunt my soul.

If I am undistracted – unaccompanied

then I become unexpectedly – unnerved.

Whispers on the breeze I cannot hear

catchlights in eyes I cannot see

memories of you I can no longer feel.

You are only 10 miles away

out of my life –

but no distance away

from this

residual haunting.

© Katypo...

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Ties loosen

eyes now bound

dominance and submission

momentarily forgotten

within their

kismet kiss

© Katypoetess 2015

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I am undone.
I am flayed –
not by a strike of hand
but of gentlemanly politeness.

I am bereft.
I am rejected –
not by a lover’s spurning
but of frustrated licentiousness

Will my vampire ever brave the depravity of reality,
from the enigmatic dark of brutal chivalry?

© Katypoetess 2015

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To say
I don’t think of you
would be a lie
but I dare not pine
As you cross my mind

Do not
ascertain as I close
the bedroom curtains
my wildness is founded
in uncontrollable desire

Ignore that
contented smile
while you hold my gaze
I suggest gently that
you need new glasses

Sipping more  
or less Dom Perignon
I’m sure it won’t be long
Before barman calls time
...

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Sometimes.  Sometimes, when I am alone,
 I slowly, warily try and bring myself back.
 Cry out the rotting lump in my throat,
 pull at greying hair, a constant reminder,
 life is passing and you are no longer there.
 Unable to breathe. A little girl lost,
 flying kites into thunderclouds.

Glancing faces of mornings in all their glory
 delivers me to rest – and now I’m blessed
 with ...

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The hour before sun does set and twilight born
 hazy aroma of cooling fields and hearts forlorn
 Homeward bound, and bound to home
 The wayward desires cease to roam

 
 Sweet light nymph strays into beaten field
 To catch that haze she dares to feel
 She writes a glimpse of hope untold
 As fragile as the petals she dares to hold

© Katypoetess  2015

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 Cuffed and collar’d – not entirely wedded n’ bound
 Retaining strength with freedom recently found
 In gallant splendour of posies he dutifully bade
 She became his princess, and nonchalant maid

She washed away his tears with sweat of sin
 An’ hell coloured hair that whipp’d his skin
 Oh scornful mistress! How can you chide and glow?
 Because, she smiled, that’s the way troubadour g...

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It’s almost done.  I am just waiting for the ISBN number and my first poetry collection will be available from Amazon.  It’s taken me two years, but it’s been worth it.  The collection consists of sixty-nine poems, telling the story of a love affair of obsession and romantic tragedy. Watch this space, and an official announcement that it’s available to download will soon follow….

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