Mabh Savage
Words and the world passing by; how it sings to me; how I clamour back.
Tag: Poet
Lonely Bubble
The boy pulls my arm Look at this bubble! He cries, and sighs In delight. It sits, unharmed, on the rainy tarmac Wet and round and glossy A perfect hemisphere A ghostly fried egg imitator A final resting place With no predicted pop. It… Continue Reading “Lonely Bubble”
Old Ways/New Ways
I’m frying things in butter Oil in cupboard, with the clutter Bottling rainwater from buckets Standing guard until it chucks it Down and how I check the weather Smell of air and pinch of leather Pine cone shrinking, mercury rising Direct sun and cloud… Continue Reading “Old Ways/New Ways”
Otley Spoken Poetry Competition
If you have a spare three quid burning a hole in your pocket, why not come to Otley Courthouse next Saturday? I be performing some poetry, alongside many other poets, vying for the coveted OWF Press Spoken Poetry Prize!
Samildánach
Will I have any corn to bring To place on the stone within the ring? Will I have flesh to cut and burn And place inside the bubbling urn? Will I have neeps and spuds and carrots To fill these wide and simmering pots?… Continue Reading “Samildánach”
DIY
The dog pant roar Of a hand saw DIY, oh why In this heat They must be mad Have they had Enough of dust And rust And just one more shelf Rollers in hand (not hair) And sleeves to there Or not at all… Continue Reading “DIY”
Greydawn
When the sun doesn’t rise Majestically over The horizon But diffuses through cloud Like milk spilling Through ink When bird song sends Rain shivering Onto sodden paths When the moon has fizzled damply And stars have sighed and left Without saying goodbye When night… Continue Reading “Greydawn”
Rules for Living on the Moon
Don’t touch the flag Kicking moon dust In faces Is Not On! Look frequently towards The earth Admire the sun With protection Of course Reflect Inwards and out No cheese jokes Ok, that’s not mandatory The only holes Are in the plot.
The Moon
A card is pulled A sphere Leaning to the side Of mercy. Our animal self Howls at it Barks at it Gnashes shark teeth But we can’t control The master of tides We fear the path Between the two towers Yet walk it we… Continue Reading “The Moon”
Jam
Sticky, clicky poppy lid Snaps open; nasal bliss Ensues; a sugary mid Morning madness Red, glistening, pips Upon my shoulder Captain of the preserves Conserve my energy For this conserve A jewel upon my knife Then spread on wheat Burnt, golden, sweet Jam makes… Continue Reading “Jam”
Mabh Savage 