ant

Biography

Just started writing poetry. Like to tell a story and take it from there. Went to a poetry workshop reluctantly and really enjoyed it and may read a couple at Marsden Jazz festival Open Mic. that's pretty much it really. Bit nervous about the open mic thing which isn't really like me. That's me in the middle in the profile pic

Samples

My Blow Up Doll Some people can finesse the pain of parting with an ease So consummate, they manage, somehow, to please Almost everyone. Not me, memories and dread Stalled my words, as my penitent caress turned Her pliant face to mine. Oh help me here somehow Find the words, because good god she deserves to know It’s over. A detail of eight years before flared; In this same bed, my voice thick with desire and freed From shame, I’d said, I think I’m falling in love with you. Those were my words and so it has been. Of course, it was the nature of her listening that kept Us strong. Open mouthed she’d sit, in rapt And silent reverence at my epic tales of traffic snarls, The crazy office pranks, sales Results, team leaders and strategic plans. Each night we’d sit beguiled by soaps, our hands Held tight, a safe and comfortable distance From the sputtering fire I’d built. The prurience Of others in these early days washed over both of us, Leaving my flesh wet, her skin dry, and squeaky clean. But the burden that our love ordained. Pressed us into futile rows over silly things. Her pain At my emphatic no to kittens, (with their cuthroat claws) and navel pierce, Both achingly desired, descended into fierce And dreadful tears, albeit singulary mine. Maintaining deft deflections of double dates confined Our hols, to pitching tent in the remote Crooks of campsites, unpeopled, closed and desolate. As my hair greyed and thinned, jealousy too became my Provenance, hateful of her beauty, seamless and without crease. Today, and each day now for eighteen months, returning Home, to find a sink piled high, congealing Pots and plates, untouched breakfast, her vapid eyes Watching trash in last night’s sullied lingerie. The moment had arrived. I held her close in artificial love To reach beneath synthetic hair and found the valve. One twist, one final lingering kiss. I turned away in gasping shame, her single sound, the fatal hiss. Beneath the bed my fingers stroked the discreet brown package Where my new love lay patient, longing for my breath.

All poems are copyright of the originating author. Permission must be obtained before using or performing others' poems.

Blog entries by ant

School Reunion- Miss Cadogan's Room (25/11/2011)

My Shooting Stars By Alice Age 6 (20/10/2011)

Doubting Thomas Or Epiphany in Halifax Last Sunday (17/10/2011)

You Too Can Have a Body Like Mine (14/10/2011)

The Real thing (13/10/2011)

GSOH (11/10/2011)

Merry Christmas Archie (04/10/2011)

Blog link: https://www.writeoutloud.net/blogs/ant