Love Bite

Poem seventeen – http://napowrimo.com

On a grey old spring day
a girl plays a song,
playing it her way.
Everyone sings along.

He looks at her face,
thinking she looks lonely,
will she take her place?
He hopes & wishes if only.

A laughing face gleams
at the girl & boy sittin’
to onlookers it seems
she’s well & truly bitten.

Show Me Courage

Poem fifteen – http://napowrimo.com

A sickness sets in, takes hold,
You stand by and watch it unfold.
I know you’re worried because you care,
But I cannot stand your suffocating stare.

I tell everyone I’m doing fine,
It’s only this heart of mine.
But its pumping strong inside,
Only you and me know I lied.

As I shuffle along in pain,
You wonder aloud whats to gain,
By my going it all alone.
You urge me to give in and moan.

I can’t sit back and let it win,
I insist from here on I will begin,
To fight my way forward once more
So show me who I’m doing it for.

Out of the darkness

Poem fourteen- http://napowrimo.com
A hue of spring flushes the cheeks of the world today,
She breathes warm breezes over our grateful skin
And sings with a voice of insects humming and birdsong.
Even the dirt seems brighter and more welcoming somehow.

A sky of deep blue eyes watches us
as we creep our way outside.
Away from the dark, brooding winter and into the light.

Into the promise of tomorrow, the promise of a future filled with sunlight. 

Mind yer own business!

Poem Eleven – http://napowrimo.com

‘Sorrys’ and sympathy,kindness and kinship,
He’s dead you know,let him rest in peace,
memories abound and grief is hard,
remember in a while it will at least cease.

The pain pours on though the sun is shining,
flowers are offered and sorrow is shared.
At funerals they flock to pay their respects,
so at least I suppose they all cared.

Why do they try and interfere with everything,
relatives,thinking it helps, it doesn’t you see?
Dispense with the charade, a card will suffice.
The one who is dead is him,it’s not me!

By Becky Bite

Fairytale Friday

Poem ten- http://napowrimo.com Friday nights alright for fighting,
Cheap wrappers and spilled kebabs strewn the wet cobbles.
An aria of drunken female screeching is set off by the rhythmic shouts of the ‘lads’.
Skirts barely skimming ass cheeks over tan streaked legs,
Rain hits down on cold,goosebumped skin,
running mascara and no coats are regulation uniform here.
Staggering on scuffed cheap heels a girl screams and mourns her lost love.
Her friends pay homage to her pain, passing her some chips and holding back her hair as she vomits.
Rainbow sick that smells like aniseed and sugar splatters the pavement.
Her knight disappears around a corner, yelling his displeasure.
She sinks to the wet floor, avoiding the coloured puddle she’s left by only a whisker.
Discarding their empty wrappers her mates conclude – its time to call a taxi. 

By: BeckyBite

Peeping Tom

Poem Eight –

Icy finger tips spiral and coil around my throat,
The air is chilled and brisk,
My spine shivers with electric anticipation,
tiny raindrops begin to patter atop my head.

The wind howls and screams in anguish,
like a teething baby without a mother,
My red nipped ears recoil from it
in pain and fear.

The storm is coming, it’s rising, it’s beginning,
My frozen hands flecked like old, cracked china
with the painted patterns of thread veins,
My cool breath dances like cigarette smoke.

Finally I hear it, the deep, sonorous rumble,
the loitering thunder booms into being.
My heartbeat begins to canter excitedly,
and I wait.

The lightening illuminates the darkened sky,
The shining bright crack cavorts childishly,
Elements coming out to play like mischievous imps
that we’re lucky to glimpse.

By Becky Bite

A Shiver.

Poem seven – http://napowrimo.com

A horrible, tight, looming feeling.
The knowledge of my own mortality,
lurking in shadows behind me like a predator waiting to strike.
A heavy pressing on my heart, clinging on like talons sunk deep into ripe flesh.
My ribcage tightens, constricting my very soul.
My eyes bulge and strain in the darkness to glimpse a horizon,
just to spy a beam of sunlight cutting through.
The pungent smell of my own death and decay
repulses my own nostrils and makes me wretch.

By Becky Bite