A Collection of Poems – by KATIE LEWINGTON

Pick and Mix

 

My poems  barely reach the end of the page

All my poems are on a word docx now

I hope I have backed them up and they are fully secured

It’s weird to suddenly have one less notebook to look through

When compiling or revising

My poems are different on a word docx

More like Allen less like

Whoever x

 

I find it difficult to not be envious

Envious of those who seem to know

Envious of them that win money prizes on a game show

Why am I watching this shit anyway

What else is on

 

You don’t need a clutch bag on your wedding day

You do not need a handbag to accessorise

All you will need is faith

Faith that your husband won’t cheat

Unless he has already of course

Yeah OK mum

I’m just telling ya

Alright mum you’ve told me

 

Cough cough germs germs from your bj mouth to your clenched up fist

I see that smile

You’re only pretending to be polite to cover your mouth

But polite you ain’t

You’re a germ carrier your mission is to spread and divide

 

 

I haven’t done anything but I still apologise

Jumping when that drain cover is trod on

It’s right outside my alley

I hear it I think it’s the police

I pee first and change my pad

Deleting old texts that might be found suspicious

OK I’m ready police man

 

I’m so sexy

I’m that chocolate dribble on your chin I’m that tight bulge as a man lowers himself to help his child put his or her shoe on I’m the wobble of the jelly I’m the thigh and knee I’m a note being played the drop noise of coins in an arcade machine I’m a gift I’m a silly text

I’m so sexy

 


 

 My man

 

You’re a player

You know what for

And appear like I am man

You are woman

Yet you see how she is besotted

Attached

Trapped now in your bell jar

You don’t like them like that but you make them so

I get you years after

The bargain bin blowout sale

You a ruin

Lacklustre

Still enough to send me head over

Lord knows how you were then

Hard to deny,  I imagine

Treasure.


 Beyond limits

 

Respect for your parents

And the teachers at school

For the cops that keep

Non respecting citizens in jail

And then you hatch

And you are old

You can think well perhaps

I can break one of those rules

I’m not at school anymore

And why do drugs – alcohol get sold

If people are that worried about their health, in losing control

Well, 3 lads died that day

In the stolen Ford

On the motorway

They had taken smack cocaine

And were doing shots

 

There’s people looking out for you for a reason, you know?

 


 

 More than that

 

Redbull will give me wings

The swing will give me lift off

And too much vodka will make me

Fly

Fly high

Higher

Dazzling greens blues

And a clear white bulb

 

An ambulance

You lay unconscious

Bloody

Broke.


 Private dancer

 

Strange shadows jut out across the wooden surface of the floor


The dresser creaks as I put down my palms on it


I watch my face in the mirror that confronts me


The glass is cracked


My face is fractured


You grab me by the waist and you spin me


The music starts and we dance


Throwing shapes with our bodies


Tapping rhythms and beats


Creating our own shadow’s onto the wooden surface of the floor.


***

20151209_120541

Katie Lewington loves her boyfriend, bacon sandwiches, poetry and reality TV. She is a published poet. She also writes book reviews and the odd (very odd) story, which she shares on her blog https://katiecreativewriterblog.wordpress.comDon’t be shy and get in touch, she likes to hear what people think about her work. Or if you have a book you think she would be interested in.

https://katiecreativewriterblog.wordpress.com

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s