Hold On Just a Little While Longer

Never ending scolding, not holding
Touch untender
Family dismember
Love surrender
Unfeeling, leaving the bleeding
Soul torn
Spirit shorn
Child worn.

Musing, losing the bruising
Mind detached
Dreams despatched
Can't be snatched 
Back. 

© Caroline Nicholson

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September

The wind changed direction today.
The light is raking across the hills.
The leaves on the trees are now old, dark green.
September is on the cusp of seasons,
Like an inflammation of the joints.
Like the zig-zagging of Romanesque archways.
A place of transition,
A time of rubbing, tension, and friction.
Where life meets death,
Unreconciled, incomplete.

© Caroline Nicholson

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Run of the Mill

Geraniums are planted in the roundabout outside Morrisons; charity shops line the Fore Street. local people mooch the market for bargains; they start shopping for Christmas early at Argos. A farmer wearing blue jeans and wellies queues at the cash machine; he struggles to scratch a living farming sheep. St Peter's church bells ring in another goddamn hour of another goddamn day.

© Caroline Nicholson
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Coastal Path

Stinging heavy restless numb
Air thick with black thoughts
Pace fret forget
Go back to the damned bed
Once again my clogged mind travels that dark path
Along a steep cliff's edge
And where the sea is a place to drown.

© Caroline Nicholson
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A New York Dinner Party

Leila chose people for her party as carefully as the ingredients for the dinner she would serve them. Charlie’s beefy banter would stand up well against Tina’s starchy opinions, and Francine’s laughter was light and refreshing. Eddie who dressed impeccably and had a sharp sense of humour always added colour to an evening. Alexandra usually had something intelligent to say and could be counted upon to keep the conversation flowing. A party wouldn't be a party without Gerta. Darling Gerta, not very clever, but so sweet and pretty. After a few glasses of wine Hugo tended to light up an argument that filled the evening well after dinner was over. As a hostess, Leila was a master chef, and this night’s menu was guaranteed a success.

© Caroline Nicholson

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Devour

“Delicious things await you if you open me”.”

“No I can’t, I shouldn't. I mustn't.”

“Open me.”

“No!”

“I know you want me, and I will satisfy you.”

“But the feeling never lasts.”

“I am always here. You can come back for more.”

“You’re devouring me.”

“And you are devouring me. We are devouring each other.”

© Caroline Nicholson

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A Riddle

There once was a fellow named Liddle
Who needed to go for a widdle
He pulled down his fly
He shouted oh, my!
Cuz the dribble he saw was not piddle.

(And a clean version!)

There once was a fellow named Riddle
Who played on a very fine fiddle
His fingers were fast
His music a blast
But all that he played was a twiddle.

© Caroline Nicholson
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You Mean It’s Not Your Gun?

What is that poking from your trousers?
You mean it’s not your gun?

© Caroline Nicholson
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That Dark Place

Black blue hopeless subdued
Longing love alone
Deep ache dark pain
Lonely sleepless prone.

Flat drab joyless distressed
Leaden lonesome dread
Hope gone hollow song
Stealing feeling dread.

© Caroline Nicholson

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