A little drop

I dropped the night

Into a watery sky.

And watched

it’s inky fingers spread.

Stains across the sun.

And smiled.

As I realised,

Silence was falling.

Broken only by the soft

Sighs,

Of those who missed

The light.

Vicarious

My claim over the dead
Is strong.
For each and every one.

I tasted all glory,
Basked in grace.
Loved the turmoil and
Gloried at destruction.
Deeply as if my own.

Even more so.

My claim over the dead
Is strong
For each and all to come.

And yet,
They do not argue
With me.

Blank Fear

Skin to key.
Slowly.
Screen and
Blood, shoot
Through wire.

Begin to reveal
Just what
Is
Inside of me.

Something is missing

Feels so odd, my first night of not writing a poem!

I will certainly still be posting poems regularly as it seems I’ve now started something i can’t stop. 🙂

Next task is the collection and to get cracking on some illustrations too.

Think i *might* allow myself the weekend off, so till next week, have a great one everyone 🙂

C, x

And They All Live Happily Ever After

I didn’t know.
What was expected
Of me on that day.
What would be drawn forth.
No.
Never had I thought.

And.
What makes me shudder
The most.
When the dark
Hugs tight and close.

Is that the ending
Fit so well.
Despite its horror.
It was the only one.

I could ever have
Written.

Ever have made.

The Power Of Your Ideas

It broke.
A carefully constructed
Damn in my mind.
Now everything is flowing.
In to one and all.
The tide cannot be stemmed.
And the flood is rising.
Oh how I wish I had known.
This would happen.
That the book.
And the words.
Were so dangerous.
So beautiful.
Which book?
I do not know.
I am underwater.

The Best Story I Know

I want to write.
On your soft pale skin.
Cover you with letters.
A tale from top to toe.
To tell the inside,
On the out.

I want my calligraphy
Dark twists and loops.
To tell everyone.
The story.
That is.
You.

You Thought My Path In Life

You talk.
So much.
My dearest friend.
That I have run
Out of paper,
And ink,
To record each
Precious word.
My poor hand is
Worn to tough leather.
From being your
Adoring scribe.

You share.
Too much.
My dearest friend.
That with each
Mark and scratch,
As incomplete as
They may be.
I have stolen enough
From your mind.
To ensure my fame
For many a year
And more.

The Memory Thief Strikes

Each day
I wrote
A memory.
On a scrap
Of paper.
Yesterday
The wind
Stole it
High away
From me.
And now
I live, and
Hope,
That lost
Memory
Has been
Taken
By a bird
Who now
Thinks
He lost
His first
Love in
Winter.

And on…

Hi all

So, ive not been very well recently 😦 and if im honest its been really hard to keep going and I do feel the odd poem has not been as strong as it could be. Sorry if i’ve not been up to scratch! But I refuse to give up regardless (of the ill or the painkillers!) Only 3 months to go, which i cannot quite believe and your comments and likes do inspire me so much, so once again thank you all.

If you would like to comment but maybe not on here please feel free to chat on twitter (@CatLHolt)

Hope you are all well and awesome as ever,

Till tomorrow,
C