Words Fail Me

soul finds me

feet stride me

world shines me

organs pump me

blood streams me

hips groove me

breath sighs me

heart loves me

Poem: Marie Craven (CC BY-NC 4.0)
Image: David Matos

Infinity

There are halls of

mirrors, sometimes

people are like

paper dolls.

The ones that played

with me in childhood,

careful shapes

with scissors,

and coloured

in dresses.

Nor I in 3D, in my

mind sometimes.

One theory of existence is

we are holograms.

Or maybe life is a

blinking in and out,

as with breathing,

but faster than

the speed of light.

Poem: Marie Craven (CC BY-NC 4.0)

Image: Michael Gaida, Pixabay PD

Forever Tending

forever

tending to details

fleeing failure

a narrow escape

and gifts.

foolish

to gamble a life

time up in smoke

the lost campfire

sifting ashes.

charcoal

is good for teeth

be sure to floss

avoid holes and

fluoride objections.

careful

where you wander

there is danger

even as all roads go

to that same place.

Poem: Marie Craven, 19 April 2018 (CC BY-NC 4.0)

Image: Pasi Mämmelä, Flickr, CCBYSA

I Heard a Bird

Today someone said I

seemed like a pink lady.

In another part of town

I heard a tiny bird

song that touched me.

A meeting was held and

I got naked on a screen,

with my clothes on.

I kept someone waiting

for over an hour and

was forgiven.

Poem: Marie Craven (CC BY-NC 4.0)

Photo: John Loo, Flickr, CCBY

The sound in my eyes

When the heart

with alarm calls to

trees of antiquity

to be near,

this world, the purgatory

of the mouse-click,

stares back

and slams the door.

As words say, or

a wired stray is

the sound in my eyes.

Pacing in place,

hands in pockets,

caught blushing.

Poem: Marie Craven, 15 September 2017 (CC BY-NC 4.0)

An erasure poem, selecting words from writing by Nigel Wells

Photo: Benjamin Balazs, Unsplash

Dentistry

The tooth bones connected to

the jaw bones connected

to the cheek bones

connected to the nose

bones connected to

a head that's aching.

The gums hurt

with inflammation

where the metal went

with drill and

needles scraping.

Grateful for the

mouth repairs but

still can't help

complaining.

Poem: Marie Craven, 14 July 2018 (CC BY-NC 4.0)

Image: Caroline LM, Unsplash

Slid

into a place where

long worn grooves of

deep body habit

flourish in the dirt

making mud pies in

a hot back yard

the taste is bitter.

hugging the ugly of

the deep body

its grease and sweat

and pungency its

freely unwashed

hair and legs of fur

its old Lilith.

mind mouths

this will and

what not but

deep body habit

is worn so easily

and biologically

words are small.

Poem: Marie Craven, 25 January 2017 (CC BY-NC 4.0)

Photo: Brad Helmink, Unsplash

Diagnosis

a few syllables

for a life long

state of being.

Poem: Marie Craven, 15 July 2017 (CC BY-NC 4.0)

Photo: Taki Steve, Flickr, CCBY

Oblique

Film-making and music-making have been the two main threads of my creativity over the five decades since my childhood. Since 2014 poetry film-making has especially fascinated me. After making more than 70 short videopoems with the writing of many poets around the world, the time has come to dare to share my own poetry, written only occasionally over years with neither study nor seriousness about myself as a poet. Here goes with one from 2018, called Oblique.

*

fascination goes 

sideways through doorways 

leaving displaced air 

in its wake. 

room to room it goes 

travelling while dreams 

muse and call in

an old restful place. 

first one then 

an other around 

the plain spaces 

dark matter awaits. 

here is a map of

my once upon a

time and many.

hold on, go easy

and get there.

Words and image by Marie Craven (CC BY-NC 4.0)