She felt down and out of it.
Looking out from her look-out post.
Everybody, everywhere:
Some far-off fifteenth-century ghost.
Guests would swear her eyes had moved.
Her portrait face, hung on the wall.
Behind the canvas, keeping still
Out of sight, she’d eavesdrop all.
She wasn’t happy and she knew it.
Happiness she’d never known.
Not a soul had ever come close
And closeness, itself, she’d never shown.
Suits of armour in the hallway.
Manuscripts by candlelight.
She didn’t speak to anyone
But wrote her diary every night.
Published by aprettykettleofpoetry
I was born in Oxford but grew up in Devon. Then I moved to Italy at 28 where, to cut a long story short, I’ve been teaching English. I’ve lived in Cagliari, Sardinia since 1995.
For writing, I’ve been influenced by poets such as Phillip Larkin and WB Yeats and a great deal by music – loved it all my life – especially lyrics. I got a book of illustrated Beatles lyrics at 18 and that got me thinking to illustrate every poem I wrote. I liked that extra ingredient of something visual. I don’t consider myself an artist so doing collages with paper, scissors and glue was a great way to cheat a bit! Sometimes I illustrate poems with photos, or drawings and watercolours, and recently a few oil paintings which is very dfficult! I’ve had exhibitions of my collages which has been an added bonus. First and foremost I like writing. Everything comes from that. Now and again, I think about getting published, and then other things take over! I have written songs with Chicco Fresu too which appear now and again on this blog with the poem.
View more posts