Kirstie Sivapalan
Can you ever stop your heart leaping up, painting right into the corners of a future not here? That may never be. Could never be. Yet the heart has already vanished over a golden horizon - titles up, audience jump to their feet applauding the textured script, the wonder of realised vision. Except nothing, not… Continue reading Heart beat
The day was still. She felt like time, had frozen, the moment it happened. Nothing mattered anymore; her heart, her blood, her breath would be a constant effort hereon in. Life had stopped, and she with it. She could walk around that Moment and examine it from all its angles – the bed, the face… Continue reading One. Two
A friend of mine read my poem about mental health in the modern world, "Sabre-Tooth Post-Truth", and concluded that it had a Winnie The Pooh style about it. Praise indeed! It gave me the idea when feeling particularly exasperated about the state or rather in-a-state of British politics, of writing a poem about the insanity… Continue reading Brexit (Tiddley Pom): The Pooh of Politics
Words are flying around my head None will take root and find meaning Feelings are sent tumbling To a place without words There are no pictures either Just half-words and muddled phrases Thrown up from deep recesses Gushing into my mind I can grasp neither heads nor tail Whizz banging articulations fade Before I can… Continue reading Mind – Full
It's easy to be full of the Divine when the warmth of the sun dazzles your eyes But when your heart scatters into pieces across the Universe What then of your faith? What then of angels with soft wings? What then of Gods and Goddesses, aspects and effigies - Totems and trinkets that keep us… Continue reading Faithlessful
Something died inside me, as the year turned towards night Someone, not really a thing, a person to be, vacated Slipping back into the mist Leaving me empty and silent I walk through his room, feeling for a presence And hope an image remains, a ghost, or a memory Finding nothing but echoes Repeating back… Continue reading Situation vacant
The Lord of Time brooks no insolence His moments precious as the stars Meting out that which we desire Holding in reserve should we remember Time is not ours to master but to respect as we would the sun and moon It cannot be counted or stored nor defined for our convenience As it flows… Continue reading Saturnine
What if we are angels in training? Each a step closer to our wings Although these wings are not feathery and light They are made of the strongest substance in the Universe, forged by experience and powerful learning They are every colour of our emotions They are soft to touch after lifetimes of abrasion Yet… Continue reading Winged
Want to know what gratitude feels like? Take away the every day... Take away getting ready for work Take away opening jars, making tea, standing while it brews Take away hats, scarves, sunglasses, flipflops Take away cosy chats, feisty debates, gossiping girls Take away walking, running, cycling, swimming Take away everything you never knew you… Continue reading The formula for Gratitude
Burning brightly, joyously. Solidly. Creating life-force and essential fire, until it falls - Shadow Only glimmers struggle to stay Reminders of what lies behind The shadow sits, weighty and cold Dense and obstinate, refusing to leave It stifles and suppresses its enemy - Light For a while it wins. All that once shone removed Pain.… Continue reading The eclipse
Writing and M.E. 