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Sometimes, it's the little things.He always told me I was deep.
An unfiltered distillation of a humanitarian ocean.

He accepted me, gills and all -
  He knew that I needed my eccentricities to breathe
         under the seascrapers of pollution
               that hung over my head.
 Or he said he did.

At the end of it all,
he tugged the gills open to expose me;
    my innards trailed across the coral reef
       as I swam trustingly forward, hoping for the best.
 I tried to believe.

I believed him, gills and all -
But eventually, he left me, with holes in my sides
   Where he had spooned out my intestines
      To tether them to a boulder.
 I tried to breath
ParchmentI speared you with a         black-ink pen.
I tried to balance           the weight
of our weare-worn         shoulders.
Tried to counter         it with beauty
and hopefulness        , with my hopes,
persistence &         with my dark love.
They came to        see it in hundreds,
Droves, of         similarly seeking
hope and         a reason to continue.
Reasons         to love, even when it
hurts.         Reasons to try when the
vast         weight of differences 'tween
us         can't be fixed by adding
a         single strike of strength
        through the middle. Our love
      wasn't strong enough for poetry
     to save. It crum
MutantHear me read it

I am a mutant.
                   | My skin does not sallow in the sun
                     and I do not blush jaundice through my cheeks.
                   | I do not have extra fingers, or toes -
                     although my spine;
                                                 it boasts an ironic vertebrae,
                                                 it is a long tally of the hearts I have broken
                                                 and when I straighten my spine the bones Pop out of place.
                                                                                                     
ScarsSee the sharpness of my tongue-nib
As the metallic taste in my mouth draws out
A barking cough, forced out
By the dirty nicotine lining my lungs.

See the blade of stubbornness
That slices across my cheek bone;
An amalgamation  of all the times you pushed me.

See the residue in my eyes,
The remnants of all those times you forced me
And I forced myself not to cry;
Those tears condensed into a thick blinding syrup
That colours all things red.

See the crinkle in my nose,
The wrinkles on my heart
As I remember how you didn't love me. (Don't love me).

See the burns on my psalms
And fingerprints singed off
By all the times you called me nothing
The White ThingsNothing is as far away as a minute ago.
No matter how hard you row against the tide
we can never reach it, never return there.

It's hard to sleep in the light of my regrets
that creeps through curtain and barriers
to rot away and bleach all things white.

It's hard to sleep knowing that no distance
is as far away as sixty small seconds ago.
Immalleable, we rot, and things turn white.
A chance secondI lie awake, staring at the cornices.
3AM: my fingers worry at the corners of my sheet.
My anxiety worries at the corners of my rib.
I bite and tug and huff out my misery
As the silence keeps me awake.
I lay with pressure of your absence
Pressing down over my nose and mouth.
A soft asphixiation of the heart, of the sanity.
It is a hot grey night in London.

You are awake, startled by the sunlight.
7AM: you can't lift your weighty skull from the sheet.
The day sirens, but you stay, settled,
Under the weight of your shroud, your loss,
Only the silence keeps you awake.
Unknowingly, for the first time in weeks
We are unintentionally in sync;
Laid
Finding Neverlove - Draft OneHear me read it

I have never loved you.
I did not love you since the day we met,
I did not love you the moment
I looked into your beautiful eyes.

I have never loved your soft voice
As it whispers my name in adoration
And I have never loved the look in your eyes
When you look at me.

I don't love your hair,
Or the way you look in the morning,
Half asleep and vulnerable and shy.
I do not love you.

I did not love you at the first touch,
At the first kiss.
I did not love you the first time,
Or the second time,
Or the last time;
Not even then.

Listen to me carefully -
I have never loved you.
I will never love you.
I will not love you until my
Mother EarthMy body is the earth;
See how under this bruise
A seed of malcontent sleeps.
See what grows out of each pore
As the pain pours over again.
There is rust in my fingerbeds
That poisons the roots
Of all good that hopes to grow here.
I am the convulsing, revolution
of the convoluted Earth...
I am the tectonic blades that clash
and shout when I curl up and hide.
You will feel me when I tremble,
and fear me when I explode
for under the magmanimous skin
There burns a core of hate
That can't be marred by human hand.
BuriedUnder the paprika house,
are the bones of my father
and nestled between rib
and reason, is our love.
ShockwaveFoetal
Trying to fold the pain up
To trap it between the paper cut limbs.
Curled up
Protective
But the shockwaves come
Pulsing from inside
Destroying cells
Radiocactive
Curled up
To trap it between the paper cut limbs.
Trying to fold the pain up.
Foetal.
HAIKUWRIMOCOMPLETE 2013

February 28th, 2013

Dire desperation
A feeble whimper for help;
roar of these raw times.

February 27th, 2013

Gluttonous ash cloud
sucks the moon's blood
and swallows the night.

February 26th, 2013

Bark! An explosion!
Angry bodies escape the
network of lung cells.

February 25th, 2013

Silently cloning,
multiplying, honing in,
determined to kill.

February 24th, 2013

Tea and sympathy
readily available
for my dear sister.

February 23rd, 2013

I will hold my breath
as the north wind does the same
waiting for your love.

February 22nd, 2013

He hovers behind;
Hamletian apparition.
Always following.

February 21st, 2013

A lo
United, We WriteHear me read it

0hgravity, if by some divine fortune you should decide that today is the day you will fail me, then let me soar through the ChemicalSkyline. Grant me a-lovely-anxiety that raises a storm InTheStarryNightSky for me to riseandbe above all else. Let me soar.

How I long to be the frail rider-on-the-storm and not a victim of the RoamingShadow, Rogue-Of-The-Night, that BlackVelvetNightmare of my nights and days. I long for awaytobefree, won't you grant it to me?

I desire to be great, to feel greatness, to be more than one of many Sad-Writers spinning Sacred-Literature into SanguineEpitaph after saturninesweetness. scarletwave of
In absence of a poem.I chewed my pen to the nib
and swallowed the ink thoughtlessly,
but no matter how long I thought,
I couldn't say what you mean to me.

I tried, I tried and I tested,
every word in my diminutive range,
but I screwed up more pieces of paper
and happened upon something strange;

I noticed words, which have served me,
for all of my formative years,
had no power to convey my gratitude
for the times that you dried my tears.

Whenever I doubt myself (often),
You're the one who tells me I'm wrong
You lift up my chin and remind me, wait
for the good things that will come along.

I can't find a way to express how
you are the saving grace in my head.
So
MatterIt is only a matter of time
until the stone lays down with the sheep
and sleeps.
Rested firmly above the holes
where our eyes used to be.

It is only a matter of matter
until epitaph and eulogy diminish to dust
and sleep
becomes the eternal home,
not where our souls used to be.

It is only a matter of fact
that our words will become reductionist, redundant,
and sleepily
the world will forget
where our words used to be.
Of Nuisance LeavesHear me read it!

Leaves clutch their ropy fingers around the tree's limbs. The zesty leeches bloom, crack open overnight and slip silently up the nearest oak or maple. They pierce the crunch of bark and penetrate deep into the rubbery veins.

They feed. They pauperize plum and peach until they are heavy and brown; heavy laden with the stolen sap.

When at last they reach their fill the tree can finally shake them off emphatically, desperately, until at last it is clean again. The tree reaches its black bones to the sky in praise and as a new year begins vows never again to be the victim of leaves.
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More from `KathrynODriscoll

A Fragment from Sen - Draft One /Sen opened her eyes and drew in a deep breath. The air was so clear it made her lungs tingle. Her bright eyes scanned the landscape, a daydream in blue. She folded her arms across her chest and stood very still, legs apart and chin up against the forces of the weather.

It felt like forever passed in silent flickering moments.

Below her the sweep of the sea ran from her to the horizon and back, dancing for her, mesmorising her.. the rocky cliff edge she stood on was tempered with a lush back sloping down into the villages below.

Sen absorbed the violent beauty of the world, she let it fill up her heart and soul, every intake of breath takin
Bristol to Bridport - Draft One /The sky is an innocent blue. More ice than ocean in colour. There is the smell of spearmint hanging in the air. But that could be another traveller. The sun is blurry and ineffectual. Its cold.

We are passing fields which look idyllically Green today. Sweeping back to the horizon undisturbed by buildings and going slave blue and finally grey at the earth to sky border. Trees slump lazily along the side of the road behind knee high crumbling stone walls.

Scissor Sisters' 'Mary' is in my ears And it reminds me of you. We enter Wells. Georgian style houses and narrow roads.. You'd think we were in France. The air is clear and bites a little. N
Bullets - Draft One /"I have to lose it soon" Mike said.

We were sat on the wall outside Petersons Store swinging our legs back and forth. The heel of my shoes kept scuffing with a clump against the brickwork. Mother would be angry, but I didn't care. It didn't matter right now.

I glanced up at Mike as he spoke, his face crumpled with worry, his shoes hit the wall with increasing violence as his anxiety grew. He didn't usually talk about this, but lately the subject of Mike losing his virginity was heavy on our minds, and he had no one else.

"Momma says if I don't she'll send me away to live with Kelsey." he continued.

I shuddered. Mike's sister Kelsey was th
Advert 084375 - Draft One /Professional stone turning service available in the Patchway area. No job too big or too small, will come to you.

Don't allow other unqualified stone masonettes into your property, hire us (Stone Turn Inc.) and we will guarentee a fast, clean service without disruption to your home within 48 hours of booking, OR your money back.

(no stone left unturned)
Awkward 1 - Draft One /The British Government pay me one hundred and two pounds a week to stay away from people. Not directly, of course. Even I am not insane enough to warrant an actual fund to stop me from being a threat, no. I have acute social anxiety disorder. It is sometimes called social phobia, or social retardation, but that's what it's called. Social anxiety disorder.

Basically that means I'm afraid of people, that I don't fit in with them, that there's something wrong with me. Maybe my brain doesn't work like yours – I don't know.

Maybe it doesn't mean any of those things. Maybe this is a transition period in my life that will pass, but I can't he
Dollface - Draft One /I'm a broken down doll,
With shattered glass eyes,
That mirror your smiles,
and show them as lies.

I spin you my tale,
With enraged artistry,
It's not the romance,
That you see on T.V.

My knight in his armour,
Is covered in rust,
As our twilight of love,
Becomes a graveyard in dusk.

We bury our hearts,
With their stitches and thread,
Another piece stolen,
Another day dead.

I tug the scraps together,
ignoring the pain,
Paint on a fresh smile,
and fake it, again.

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I will remember for you

:iconkathrynodriscoll:

Do you remember;
It was September and I was seventeen.
I was gnarled into the corner of a bus
Mithering away at my gloomy mood;
Trying to shake the oppressive landscape in my mind.

It was unexpected.
A blow,
A shock.
It was unexpected to see you there.

You were folded primly onto a bus shelters seat
With her hand enveloped in yours
You both lifted your other hands, synchronised,
And waved to me with your familiar smiles.

I was surprised.
Was stunned.
Was overjoyed,
I was surprised to see you there.

Your grey hat tipped so rain slipped off
And her glasses whitening with the steam of her laugh
I just looked at you, gluttonous,
I absorbed every detail of that moment.

It was unexpected.
A blow,
A shock.
It was unexpected to see you there.

But there you were nonetheless,
Eighty years old, clasping hands awaiting a bus
My eyes leaked they were overfull of the sight
Of two people, quietly, silently in love.

I was surprised.
Was stunned.
Was overjoyed,
I was surprised to see you there

As your love reached out and took me too.
Osmoticly my body filled with it
And I preserve it still, it fuels my blood.
You are in my blood, you are in my heart.

You don't remember.
How you read to me, or I to you.
How you guided and taught me.
You don't remember. I'll remember for you.
:iconkathrynodriscoll:
Deep breath. The phrase "I will remember for you" came to me when I was thinking about my grandfather, to whom I am very close. I began to think of all the precious memories I have with him throughout my life, from childhood to this very week.

My grandfather has vascular dementia and sadly it seems like every week he forgets more things. How to make coffee, how to get dressed, how to play cards... but I will never forget.

This poem mostly describes a real event, I was on the bus on my way to college and when I looked out of the window at a bus stop, there they were. My grandparents. At 7 in the morning. Sat, holding hands, smiling and waving, waiting for a bus. It was so bizarre to see them out of the context I knew them in, they so rarely left their house especially without myself or my mum to take them. The image of them holding hands and waving to me will stick strong in my heart for a long time.

So its okay if you forget, if you call me the wrong name or ask me where my husband is. I will smile and make you a cup of coffee and start the same conversation twenty times so that you don't realise you are doing it and get anxious. I won't mind.



I recently read one of those pictures that floats around facebook, its not a meme just like a long saying that people pass around but I cant find it, it went something like..

I was there when you were learning to walk, hold my hand when I get unsteady as I did yours.

It goes on with lots of different examples about caring for elderly relatives and how they cared for us when we were children so to try to be patient with them. This resonated deeply with me. My grandfather is like a father figure in my life, and he taught me a lot and supported me through a lot. It is no burden to make him smile a couple of times a week now.


New word! I love it when a new word happens!

Osmoticly: with the characteristics of osmosis.
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:icondeepkarma:
~deepkarma 5 days ago  New member
I read this the first time to get the words. The second time after reading your explanation to see your experience. The third time to reflect upon my own experience. Thank you.

It reminded me of a Mia Michael's choreographed routine about losing her father. I'm on my stupid phone and can't put up the link, but I was able to confirm that you can find it with a google search.

Your vision moved me. Again, thank you.
Reply
:iconkathrynodriscoll:
`KathrynODriscoll 4 days ago  Student Writer
Aww, thank you so much!! :tighthug:
Reply
:iconemma-hime:
*Emma-hime Mar 5, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
This hits very close to home for me and while reading it brought out memories in me, your use of words made it very easy to visualize everything very well in my head, theres a good story and theme backing this one up too and it definitely shows how from the heart it is. Good work.
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:iconkathrynodriscoll:
`KathrynODriscoll Mar 7, 2013  Student Writer
:tighthug: Thank you so much
Reply
:iconmoon-lit-words:
~moon-lit-words Feb 3, 2013  Student Writer
less to say that you haven't yet heart - this is a wonderful snapshot. your writing here is coarse, slightly jarring, but i don't see real life being any different. thank you for sharing
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:iconkathrynodriscoll:
`KathrynODriscoll Feb 8, 2013  Student Writer
Thank you... Thats a wonderful compliment to me :tighthug:
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:iconmoon-lit-words:
~moon-lit-words Feb 8, 2013  Student Writer
heard* ^^; and you're welcome
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:iconmadidoverjordan:
~MadiDoverJordan Feb 1, 2013
This is beautiful...
Your story really struck a chord with me, as my grandfather had alzheimers, so somewhat similar.
Anyway, I really love how you write!!
Reply
:iconkathrynodriscoll:
`KathrynODriscoll Feb 8, 2013  Student Writer
Thank you so much! You are so sweet. I am really glad people thought this was sweet, its tricky to write about and I wanted it to be full of love.
Reply
:iconmadidoverjordan:
~MadiDoverJordan Feb 14, 2013
Np!
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