Posted in Creative Writing, English Literature, Free Verse, lush, Poetry, Writing

Musings from a bath

‚ÄčLet me sink into to your scarlet blue , and lather my breast plates golden moonlight, whilst I catch the swirling stars. Lather me in dust till the golden pearls drip from my naked frame. Smother me in your colour until I become a creature , an arching goddess whose eyes are as blue as the Atlantic, voice as smooth as honey.  Let the Gods massage silk into my spine until I bleed golden droplets.

Let them bathe me oils until my skin melts away leaving my golden form ,still like darkness. Oh let them weep! Let them decorate the sky with sparkling  tears. While I lay frozen in a sheet of ice. Stars surrounding me and giving me wings.

Let my fly to the heavens and make a home on the moon.

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Posted in Creative Writing, English Literature, Photography, Poetry, Romantics, Sunrise, Writing

Siren of the sky

The master of hide and seek , taking refuge behind buildings and trees. Glowing like a medal in the distance; ruining the game.

A flash of lights as vision becomes blurry , head dizzy. Sparkles glowing. A siren , whose eyes lure you; burn you with kisses and leaves a red love bite which remains forever ;creating a glowing reflection. Don’t blink, don’t look away.The siren of the sky  will ache from the heavens and spread a curse.

Frosted tears will spread darkness causing the tufts of grass to turn ashy and weep with icy tears.

Until the siren melts away the grey, creating a colourful haze. Oh eternal siren burn me until you have no fire left. Kiss me until I transform into ash. Your beauty will whip me eternally until you fade into your hilly home.

Oh Siren of the sky, you beauteous form will caress me until my end is neigh. Golden Siren of the sky.

(Apologies for not posting I’ve been very busy with Christmas, I hope you all had a good one too! Happy New Year.))

Posted in Acne, Body confidence, Body image, Feminism, Growing up, Writing

I’m not going to be ugly anymore.

Ever since I was nine my face has been dotted with acne , it was always a stigma that surrounded me people were put off talking to me because of my physical appearance; or at least that’s how it felt. I wouldn’t socialise and spent most of my breaks and lunch times in the library reading and I enjoyed that . There’s a point though to how long reading can last ,until you want to talk to people and you want them to like you . I used to try really hard and bring in sweets and share them round in hope that someone would actually want to talk to me ,or invite me to sit with them for lunch making the first three years of secondary school very difficult; I was just being used because in their eyes I was a “pathetic freak.”

I used to feel worthless, I never had suicidal thoughts but sometimes I thought it was better I disappear ; no body would care if I did. I used to be bullied about my appearance which has left me with lasting physical and mental scars ; often called “gollum.” , “ugly” , “juicy spot.’ , “shiny forehead.” . The list goes on .

Even though this happened several years ago the effects and their words are still felt. Kids can be cruel and think about things in the moment and I suppose if I told them all this today they’d apologise and say they didn’t mean it . But it’s too late . 

Today has given me the confidence to remove those labels from myself and fight those deamons in my head. In today’s society instagram ,facebook is filled with unrealistic images which we can’t all fit . Everyone has had trouble with their appearance and self esteem at some point. 

The thing is I’m not going to let those labels effect me anymore.   The only person who decides how beautiful I am is myself. People label and stigmatise because they have their own insecurities and things they hate so if they make someone feel worse  instead of building them up. 

I feel that if I never accept myself it will affect me and I don’t want it to because my acne will go eventually and I suppose a positive is I’m young enough to get it . Beauty starts from within, it is a combination of aspects that you have to find yourself.  Beauty is not simply aesthetic beauty it is confidence, intelligence, kindness and building each other up not breaking each other down like I’ve said in a previous blog.

Beauty is facing stigma and overcoming it and helping people face theirs. My acne scars are my battle wounds ,I’ve survived the battle and won it.

Here’s to a brighter more confident future.
SS

I have no makeup on !
Posted in Creative Writing, English Literature, Martian Poetry, Poetry, Writers, Writing

Writers

Mechanical robots of words,whose heads are stuck in the clouds of ideas ; in between piles of half read books listening to the eternal whisperings of authors.

Hands always flowing with an inky substance always smudged. Whose eyes act as spies, delving into the pasts of heroes, villains and lovers; their tales vast and lives many.

 Brains scattered with lightning ideas that fizz and pop, come and go . Wake you up in the night causing the ink to leak onto the bed covers.

Whose very existence lives on the taste of paper and never ending cuts. Draining the words like Dracula then placing them back to life like Frankenstein.

Their thoughts and creativity will never die.

The magicians of life.

Posted in Blake, Creative Writing, London, Photography, Poetry, Writing

London

The mistress of fast pace and rushed time whose arms run through secret underground stations connecting towns.The mistress whose lips are pursed with an iron clamp and do not open to greet hello. Tutting at the sound of a northern who dares to cross the barrier. 

Whose bullet will stain my soul if I dare step through the Palace gates;housing the blood of men. 

Whose heartbeat scuttles around the city like a black inky snake filled ,with the poison of souls gone before. Whose voice is loudest alarming the hour through an instant chime. 

Whoes breath is dirty fume of coal filling the air like a dragons fire burning the lungs.  

The mistress of disgrace and tarnished reputation, whoes eyes no longer sparkle at the waking of the moon.