Poems From the Vault #2

Hi Everyone,

As promised, I have looked for (and found) poems that I wrote ages ago. Last week was poems from my Creative Writing module, this week one poem that I wrote at the library course I did and one reworking of an old poem that was submitted for my degree.

Eyeliner

The hallway frames the front door of my home.

Guarding me from well-wishers, I need to be alone.

Seasons, styles or Saturdays, there is always eyeliner,

bold black wings from cut price to designer.

I woke the other day, robbed of my right hand

sudden stolen senses, are hard to understand.

War paint frames my face, I’m ready for the world.

Without eyeliner,  I look a different girl.

Blurred vision, a thousand texts becoming unbearable.

In her best posh voice, she tells me I ‘look terrible’

Healing, time and patience all falls into place

I’m faking being well, with eyeliner on my face.

Samantha Henthorn © 2015

photo of venus eyeliner pencil set
Photo by ud835udc15ud835udc1eud835udc27ud835udc2eud835udc2c ud835udc07ud835udc03 ud835udc0cud835udc1aud835udc24ud835udc1e- ud835udc2eud835udc29 & ud835udc0fud835udc1eud835udc2bud835udc1fud835udc2eud835udc26ud835udc1e on Pexels.com

I’m sorry I didn’t come to your funeral.

The long-distance made it impossible.

Your sister’s phone call echoed strangely,

reminding me of you – I almost knew.

I’m sorry I didn’t go to your funeral. 

Happy days and happy memories,

time dissolved the Christmas card list.

Robins, feathers, bereavement tokens,

I wonder if you know the reason;

how sorry I am I didn’t go to your funeral.  

I don’t know why the above has come out in small writing- I copy/pasted it from a word document.

Happy Wednesday everyone! Samantha xx

I wrote these books! https://t.co/aqJFqYlGWl?a

Add a heading (2)

What we did during lockdown (1)

The World (1)

cropped-978-1717745552

 

 

Poems From the Vault.

Enough time has passed since the end of my creative writing module so that I can publish some of my degree poems – even though I’m not a poet.

No Through Road

British summertime, always fine in the mid-1980s.

We dragged our feet for miles in the sweltering heat-

a family day out for a Guardian reader.

Not much fun for us, at seven, eight and fifteen.

We halted at a shut gate, obscured by a house.

A dead-end, no through road, my Mum was vexed.

Dad’s rambling book past its sell-by date.

 

A girl sits behind glass like a Pink and Pretty Barbie.

A privileged reflection, same blue eyes, same blond hair,

different opportunities – but at least I was outside.

I smiled and waved at her but she just stared at me,

looking down her nose at my catalogue clothes.

That scene has disappeared now, of

British village life, beauty and dead ends.

A glimpse of the ideal; the grass that’s always greener.

Pink and Pretty Barbie, how did your life turn out?

closed green wooden gate
Photo by Athena on Pexels.com

 

Drama in Pyjamas

 

Remember those insomnia filled nights?

Always something on my mind.

You held me close in cotton, naked

thighs would conspire without you.

My night time leg protectors,

now too old to be any use.

 

Your waistband is frayed and too tight anyway.

Holes in the ankles from when the dog was small.

A bleach-splash stain that sort of blended in.

I hear leopard print is in fashion again.

A favourite since the first time round,

with your never changing spots.

 

Sleeping in pyjamas

became housework in pyjamas,

graduated to gardening in pyjamas.

I almost went shopping

(that’s why I need a new pair).

 

We had some good times,

but now I don’t fit you

and you do not fit me;

tricky to choose something new.

Questioning attachments and familiarity.

Intimate to an unwelcome degree.

Drama in pyjamas please let go of me.

woman feet legs girl
Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com

As you may know, I am studying for a BA in Creative Writing. This is taking ages because I am doing it part-time (got to pace myself!)

Here is a photo of me pacing myself (not).

person laying on sand
Photo by Rebeca Gonu00e7alves on Pexels.com

More poetry next week (if I haven’t deleted them)

Happy Wednesday, Samantha xx

I wrote these books! https://t.co/aqJFqYlGWl?amp=1

The World (1)What we did during lockdown (1)51fgIVSsMiLAdd a heading (2)Edna and Genevieve (1)Scan_20170731

978-1717745552Curmudgeon Avenue Book TWoAdd a heading

 

What We Did During Lockdown – THE DONATION

What we did during lockdown (1)

Back in April… (it doesn’t seem that long ago) my friend Alex started a friend group on Facebook so that we could all keep in touch.

I had the idea of putting together an anthology. I wrote a short story, but by then I think we were all feeling a little short of motivation.

However! My friend Leah (Leah Leanne Wood) sent me her story The Suitcase… as I read it, tears of joy formed and I had to continue with the project.

Leah for book

My friend Leah, pictured here. She is beautiful and bright 🙂

Soon, Alex Cavanagh (the skateboarding poet) joined in with a poem about his family.

Shaylah wrote a story about a Van Gogh inspired creepy artist.

Claire Kingsley wrote a story inspired by that Meme ‘OK Karen’

My story, Magic Pound was inspired by the end of my degree module Fairy Tales and Shakespeare’s Tempest.

We have sold 43 paperbacks and 11 Kindle downloads. Also, 111 Kindle Unlimited pages. This amounts to £33.86 I have rounded this up to £40 and sent the donation today to Bury Hospice in memory of Leah’s mum, Sam Hunt.

Image may contain: 1 person, smiling, selfie, close-up and indoor

20200630_113433

 

No description available.

No description available.

You can still buy What We Did During Lockdown HERE UK or HERE US I will donate the royalties straight to Bury Hospice.

20200525_194137

THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO BOUGHT A COPY AND TO MY FOUR FRIENDS WHO MADE THIS POSSIBLE

Happy reading, Samantha xx