Moon

April 17, 2014 § Leave a comment

What does the moon
do in the daytime?
She takes a nap,
sometimes, she braids
her silvershine hair and
preens her brightness
in front of a bright mirror
(casting fleet shapes across
the empty walls behind her).
She files a shimmering nail.
She folds a blanket that tumbles
like water through her slim
and luminescent arms –
she flips her lively hair back.
She dreams the golden hours
away, resting cool and sweet
in her favourite chair, and thumbs
beloved poetry books –
gathering slick words and lines like
fish in the lazy net of her gaze.
She holds a porcelain mug to the
pink bow of her lips, and forgets
to drink. She feels her eyelids like
a curtain – the outside world ethereal.
She waits for her resplendent evening
and breathes deeply; she prepares.

Nicole Best

Advertisements

Soul Clenched

April 17, 2014 § Leave a comment

I have always been lost.
Floating through evening,
Scattering shreds of self over an unsuspecting world.

In my travels, I have seen
Distant people, and watched their sunsets.

I know a piece
Of each of them, within me has burned.

They have marked me. But you
Have slipped deeper, through my sadness.

How could you?
What did you see there?
Can you feel how I tremble at your saying?
Do you wonder sometimes, if we have gone just too far?

Sometimes I feel like a beloved book,
Yellowing away in your hands while the room turns deep blue.

I live in terror that you will recede
Leaving our hours lonely statues.

Nicole Best

* This is my ‘golden shovel’, a poem in which the last word on each line is a word from a different poem. I chose Pablo Neruda’s “Clenched Soul” for this exercise. 🙂

Cheap and Ugly

April 15, 2014 § Leave a comment

This world hangs on
me, envelops
thintrembling
flesh at once
too tight and too loose.
I am trapped in
an ill-fitting
life; custom-made for
another. Such shades
suit me not, neither
drape nor
texture flatters.
I am always tugging
awkwardly, squirming trying
to pull it
straight; to scratch
an itch; to write a seam –
to make it fit.

Nicole Best

Tragedy

April 14, 2014 § 1 Comment

This image is
Made of yellow
And brown
Down soft feathers
Splayed, obscene on
Bright chrome behind
A grill like a cage
Tiny eyes dull and
Claws curled painfully
Beak silent, once
Life-full now life-empty
A shuddered-out little
Body: humanity’s
Collateral damage contained
In a single dead bird
On a car’s front.

Nicole Best

Thoughts

April 14, 2014 § Leave a comment

In silent darkness
Little things lie safely curled
Waiting for new heat.

Nicole Best

Practical Uses

April 14, 2014 § Leave a comment

Nostalgia should always be kept
At the back of a cool, dark closet
It will eventually come in handy –
Don’t discard it, however useless
It may seem right now. Some day,
Perhaps on a drifting Sunday
Afternoon, the time will be right;
And you will move aside the old art
Supplies and the extra sheets and
Your trembling fingers will close on
The cool hard-softness of it and you’ll
Bring it out into the dreamy light and
Curl up with it cradled in the warm
Curve of your stomach, and lose
Whoever you thought you were in
Sweet-sour aching places and
Abandoned dreams. It is a must for
Every household.

Nicole Best

A Human Autumn

April 14, 2014 § Leave a comment

Shed faces shed leaves
Like air, let fiery red cover
You from tip to toe, stumble
Beneath another season’s
Hurtful rust, corrosion sweet
And painful, shed hatred
Shed joy, leave it all to
Slump hopelessly around
Your rooted feet, to rot into
Filth and earth, to insulate
Your depths and feed you,
Stand tall, freeze your
Naked scaffold dark against
A memory sky, like a dead
Tree, like a skeleton, like
An unwelcome truth.

Nicole Best

Where Am I?

You are currently browsing the NaPoWriMo 2014 category at Not Necessarily Relevant.

%d bloggers like this: