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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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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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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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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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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Come to me.

In darkening clouds

and balmy breeze

that boldly bucks

my willow tree

into enlightenment.

Come to me.

Touch me.

Touch me where

I ache the most

show the least

and love you the best.

Touch me.

Stay with me.

Share my twilight

sultry sensual stars

with a shine that

warns off dawn

of atonement.

Stay with me.

© Katypo...

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A thumb – intently placed on chin

caressing every freckle into a letter

that spells out a story blushing lips

that remand and remade the ending

Forefinger – smoothing the jaw

straight as lines read and re-read

he turns her over like a page

his favourite fable, every inch

a mythology of unreason.

Genteel palm – perfectly placed

on ripened white, depressing sp...

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I

Staring a half-hearted wonder of who you really

are into a crackle and glow of home comforts,

I swill serene glass of Margaux round and round

in hand that writes and re-writes reminiscence.

Commuting through those sullied Surrey suburbs,

did the severity of your suit cut a sharp intake of

my breath as I pushed through the hollow crowd?

Poetry flames in devotion, an a...

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“Chin

down

slightly,

head towards finger, keep going, keep going, there – stop.

Eyes to me.” 

Sequestered devotion to bemused muse.

She stares back digressive, dictated expression.

Seeing now not the man, but the Brady stand.

© 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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My debut poetry collection "Of Lilith and Anthony" is a poetic narrative of a love affair, bringing to the reader the ultimate question of whether it is a modern day cautionary tale or romantic tragedy. The poetry speaks of anticipation, erotic and obsessive love within the confines and complexities of an extra-marital affair, that is bound by social norms and family expectations. These evocative ...

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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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Here’s a preview of the front cover for Of Lilith and Anthony.  It’s a collection of narrative poetry, a story of possession and sexual obsession told through verse and photography.

I’ve been posting poems from the collection but soon it will be available on amazon as an e-book to begin with.  Will keep you posted on when this will happen…

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The Hierophant guards. He guards and feeds from pack of thieves
that are drawn forlorn to his treasures. To rule, to hold, to perfect –
he placates and facilitates pretty carousel that spins flinging their
demons against pillars of law and liberty. A conservative duality of
white knight and coyote - unmoving face of majestic monument that never
falls. He covets the treasure, thieves and carou...

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Deep.  Deep in thelemic thought, her

words spill sour, salted by a power

that cowers and spits, shoaling rocks

into desolate fetch, coveting a polyandry.

Exiled.  Exiled she lies, and lies. Coursed

and cobbled. Smooth blissful pebbles

that awake wrecked memories, and hopes

of calm oceans being neither here or there.   

Caught. Caught in a squall ‘twix...

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Unsure, Unopposed

lying in my arms

fleeting captivity

of bittersweet blossom

transient beauty as it falls

melting into the ground

and you’re gone

© Katypoetess 2013

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I

Maybe - it was just sex and poetry passing through your modus operandi.

I am no Rossetti, Dickenson or Plath. My heart hung in front of my heroines.

Emotions could rival, but words brew clumsy and fall cumbersome at their feet.

Ink spurts and spills from between my legs, puddling and muddying an

indiscression from the master’s muse. Brooding time in surburban solicit...

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If I had that chance, I would keep giving you The best. 

Love making - hot tea served so dutifully, as I gently

steam each dream to wake you. Morning Molton Brown bath

with warm Christy towel to wrap around fervid hips after

I wash and caress every complex that doesn’t need cleansing.

When meeting your neuroses, I would heed the grumbles

chuntering a nonsense, that...

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Your father is still your father. Love him and forgive him as a young child.
The way you were in expectant, resolute delight of his arms around you.
Your father is still your father in his audacious crime of falling in love.
I, his Pygmalion’s statue, his muse, his mistress, his little goth whore,
you see me as nothing better than shit on your kitchen floor
before gathering round the ...

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Moon beckons a beacon for the night demon’s path. Comfort strewn by creaks
of cooling corners in the bedroom.  Dutiful goodnight kisses obligate a renewed
commitment to freshly etched, stone set commandments of the marriage rite.

Left alone, he clicks familiar websites, browsing history carefully kept out of sight.
Easing tension transiently until eyes hit on a caress of a photo...

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The boy’s blue eyes shone

Tried so hard to be good

Tall frame was troubled

So easily misunderstood

But something happened

A long time ago

That split his heart

And darkened his soul

He had to feel needed

Wanted and secure

To cover the emptiness

And risk of wanting more

He worked and toiled

To fill the vacuum inside

He crea...

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Curtains drawn
One sunny morn
A white shadow
On patio door

Since that night
No cry heard
Death knoll subdued
Prey is disturbed

Prophecy or protection
Wisdom or inflection
Your powder down
I cannot clean

A haunting call through the valleys of resentment

Forgive – forgive - forgive

© Katypoetess 2013

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Picked you up

Turned you around

Stroked your feet

Knocked your crown

I looked inside

Took last light

Struck it hard

Flared the night

Burnt the skin

Flame lives within

Bound by Stockholm

Protected from wind

Loyal knights

Play a tune

Of ruined castles

In shallow dune

Didn’t burn away

Like it should

Fue...

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Flatlined. Red admiral turned cabbage white.

Our bed, once pale open casket creaks a chrysalis,

a steadfast metamorphosis of our gothic love story.

Set apart by vengeful spouses, hindwings skinned.

Living in separate houses, just over ten miles apart.

Beyond the ending in damask suburban banality

the vampire’s parable of a lover’s return fleets transient

scorni...

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I imagine you mowing the lawn to atone, painting walls

covering every sin you have committed. An extra coat

over loose ends. Hammered nails in coffins of every fuck up.

New cars, holidays, gifts, attention worthy of a young peacock

lavish while the leash of trust and compensatory promises

Threatens shorter with any sign of un-toeing the line.

The gin palace closed ...

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I sweat, I shriek, I write

Worried faces can only wait

I tear, I bleed severely

begging for epidural of hate

I can’t get you out of me

But I must or I will die

My back arches upwards

My legs spread open wide

Final push, truth and lies collide

I exorcise what you decimate

Sodden, panting, I look down

to see what you did create

I g...

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Dreaming

Waiting

Hesitating

Taking

Denying

Confessing

Taking

Hesitating                                                                         

Waiting                                                                                                                                                         

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Your east side

Torpid

Behind the times

Poverty stricken

Oppressed and undone

My west side

Free

Moving the future

Abundant laden

Oppressed and undone

In our dreams

I run

In our memories

You run

Towards the wall

I thought I heard

You thought you heard

The other call

Checkpoint of illusion

Guns down

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Everyone at work used to say

You were good at talking the talk

I did not realise this

As I was too distracted

Listening to you talking

Rather than watching you

walking

And as I walked faster

Alongside you talking

I forgot where I was going

And I fell down a hole

You did not see me or follow

But I could still hear you

talking

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There’s a curious superfluity

of characters

in this play

forgetting the lines

missing the cues

wrong costume changes

a story confused.

Played out in performance

the audience hisses

the writer cringes

the curtains drop

on all of them

inside you.

© Katypoetess 2013

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Not one, but two shadows cast onto the ground

The oaks stand vowed apart in pride

Beautifully synchronised

Too stubborn to reach out to touch

As the seasons pass, they spy and hide

With no eyes to watch each other

Fluttering leaves whisper between their worlds

time momentarily stops

Don’t forget….

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