A poem

If I could take a photo with my eyes
I’d shoot the morning skies.
What I have snapped between these lashes;
cerulean hues
and golden flashes
on the underside of a sparrows’ wings
as she dashes
from her nest and sings
the prologue for the day.
I have captured it
in my wide-eyed way.

The dew sits in its earthy pews,
sedately waiting,
for the sun to come up,
into view.
The moon lurks sheepishly
above us all,
self-consciously she shines.
She knows her act is over,
yet she sits up there so white, so high. …

The heaviness upon my shoulders
is not the weight of the world;
it’s this head of mine.

It’s splitting like a conker:
bursting with ideas above my station,
riddled with problems that aren’t mine to solve,
strained from reaching out for more
and aching with a love that has been chained.

I press my scalp and palms into the Earth
and send my two soles skywards.
Now, I’m just a girl – inverted;
balancing,
pulling my stomach in,
opening my legs,
diverting your attention.

What I have, outside
and what I do is a distraction:

What would you achieve
if years upon this Earth you’d only three?
Or maybe five.
His time is short, the hummingbird;
he’s busy, but he’s purposeful and present

- he’s alive.

How far would you fly
if you’d been born with brightly coloured wings
and his view of things?
His tiny body floats, the hummingbird;
he’s gliding in reverse,
so elevated, powerful and spry
and though he’s miniature

- he’s high.

What sweetness would you find if you took just enough to feed yourself? Leave some behind; ambrosia for the glittering. He knows no greed, the hummingbird; he works to…

Literary Impulse & Paper Poetry ‘Eudaimonia’ Prompt Submission

Tonight you caught me by surprise,
Re-telling true stories from your travels through time, space and yourself,
Uncovering a recipe that
Everyone has loved, everywhere you go.

Great journeys, like yours, require a unique
Open-mindedness: an open heart and the
Optimistic belief that people are inherently good, so
Don’t allow your fear or conditioning to tell you otherwise.

Before you cooked for them
Each of your hosts saw you as a stranger;
An exotic alien in their home:
Until you made that beautiful dish. After one bite,
Trust blossomed into friendship. …

Untameable horse,
break away from the herd.

Don’t slow your stride,
jump when you want;
not when they say the word
and don’t let anybody ride upon your back
without your trust.
It’s speed you need —
leave, if you must.
I’ll be here, waiting
for your feet to kick up all this dust.

Wild bird,
break the formation.

Don’t touch the ground
until you yearn for land;
not when they tire of flight
and don’t forget that you can fly alone,
untethered, through the night.
Dance with the air —
then come to rest. …

Sodden socks removed,
a dry pair eases on:
toes scrunch with pleasure.

Soft, but not brand new,
your favourite, faded blue
now you feel better;
more like you.

This respite; comforting and warm,
steels you to head back out
and brave the storm.

You’ll walk a little further,
reach a little higher,
try a little harder,
with the secret of your enduring strength
hidden in your shoes.

© Amy Knight 2021

She picks the poems
from her gritted teeth;
pulls phrases from sun-dappled gaps beneath
the doors that slowly, surely, shut —

and pens a tale of wild adventure
while he sleeps and steals the covers
from her side.
Behind those doors
a different future’s waiting;
one where she will fall,
because she tried.

She writes old lines
that disappeared
into her face when she escaped.
And spills the ink
that’s underneath her skin —

from once upon a time
when other doors were open, but
she followed him. …