Daffodils look sad in the rain. Pushed against the hillsides bruising a mustard yellow, losing all of their sunshine and the smiley faces I imagine hidden on the inside of their petals. Weak and failing, praying for the wind to let up, just for a day. Poem: © Kristiana Reed 2020 Between … Continue reading Spring rain
I find myself yearning for another time, for the solitude I became accustomed to. I have forgotten the unhappiness and I see strength in my hollowed out cheeks; I forget the weight I lost, I forget how little I ate, the grief in my throat for every part of me I’d given away to someone … Continue reading Yearning
A rope hangs, pulls taut, over the edge of a cliff, love clings to the knots, swinging above an abyss masked by settling cloud. Above there stands a figure, a shadow against the sun, and in their right palm sits a knife, emboldened by the disappearing light, it glints in all that is left and … Continue reading A rope hangs
I want to be as poetic as possible so if the Brontes were alive they would make me a heroine all starry eyed with violence, or Blake would call me a song of both innocence and experience. Ovid would wish to dance with me, turn into monsters and flowers with me, because my poetic sensibilities … Continue reading Poetry
Route 62, the pink and purple bus fading like a disappearing sunset, which always passes beneath a lamp which flickers - the orange eye wearing a halo of feathers, the seagulls too far from the sea. Homeward bound - bus ticket in hand, paper turned redundant, used and crumpled, left in a pocket to fall … Continue reading Route 62
The clouds strode defiantly through the sky like your bottom lip kept stoically high; for which you were always admired, the girl who took life in her fists and held it beneath the water before it could get to her. We watched them float solidly and gold at the edges while we kept secrets, lying … Continue reading Keeping secrets
I hope you realise you are the salt of my earth. The roots which reach ever deeper. I hope you realise one day how much more you are than you have believed before. You are waxwings in the trees arriving on winter’s doorstep in stoic defiance. You are warmth in the bitter cold. I hope … Continue reading Brother
He sits, patiently: a robin feathering his nest, waiting for the snow, to parade his red breast along the fence, in front of winter’s grandest show. Poem: © Kristiana Reed 2019 Between the Trees UK Between the Trees US Signed copies on Etsy Image by PublicDomainPictures from Pixabay
The simple nostos after the work day ends: coat, scarf and car keys, the sun already setting, the sky a little more bruised than when you left it in the morning, the one lane of slow traffic and the blinkered hazards of roadworks, more roadworks, before a straight road into the country(ish), a village close … Continue reading Returning home
Imagine it’s the night before the end of the world as we know it: airstrikes are landing like lightning and fires are raging to the pace of frightened, broken hearts. Time is no longer waiting; acting before we’ve even opened our weary eyes to the damage we’ve been wreaking whilst pretending, like in this … Continue reading Look at what we’ve done
