father
you soft thing,
you listen for the gentle beating of a
pair of ivory wings,
thinking that he never truly
left.
of course he didn’t.
he’s been with you all along,
fluttering by,
your butterfly.
you have believed softer
things.
WRITER OF PROSE & POETRY
father
you soft thing,
you listen for the gentle beating of a
pair of ivory wings,
thinking that he never truly
left.
of course he didn’t.
he’s been with you all along,
fluttering by,
your butterfly.
you have believed softer
things.
I'm making the final changes to my manuscript, and my debut collection should be published, in print and for sale by mid-March. 🦋
'winter's sister' will be published in Issue 94 of Obsessed with Pipework's Print Edition. To be released May 2021.
I’m dreaming of the day you will appear,
Lured by the silver on my lily cheeks,
And with a finger blot these blessèd tears,
Which tumble as your tongue so softly speaks.
Struck by Eros and his fervent aim,
Incensèd spirits gloried up above.
That ardent archer, bright his wingèd flame
Came forth to douse us with his jewelled love.
Time is frozen, locks me in your gaze,
For thine eyes are the ones that hold my own,
And fore’er it shall be this blessèd way,
Eternal sleep with my Endymion.
O, never leave me! Hold me whilst I cry,
I choose to love you even as I die.
------
A Keats-inspired sonnet. These words came from my soul. To be published in my chapbook.
I'm writing this into existence--I'm currently working on a poetry chapbook which I hope to publish at some point in 2021-22. It's the first literary project I've undertaken in a while, but now is the right time. I will update my website with any news.
Love, Charlotte
____________________________________
Written a year ago, this is my first piece of published poetry and that fact alone makes me smile. I wrote this quirky list poem as an unserious way of expressing my frustration as a learner driver and the little memories I share with Mother Oakeby, who'd firmly told me I could not submit this anywhere. She was then furious when she found out about this publication. I somehow managed to hide it from her for a month.
My style of writing poetry has changed drastically since this piece, so now I look back fondly on the Charlotte of the past; the Charlotte who had not yet discovered the Romantics! As always, thank you to Internet Void for publishing my work! You can read it in their journal by clicking here.
A heaven lost and now we fall.
Far better days than in that place,
For what we lost was no heaven at all.
How can it be, Jove's tragic call,
A soft descent and sweet disgrace?
A heaven lost and now we fall.
Our life-sworn love now twisted drawl.
Hell's searing flames will kiss and grace
For what we lost was no heaven at all.
The nether's dusk does me enthral.
Oh, how it burns, our scorchèd trace!
A heaven lost and now we fall.
The string that binds us, devils pull.
We plummet down towards their base
For what we lost was no heaven at all.
Far from the days of cruel love's thrall,
We hurtle through this tempting space.
A heaven lost and now we fall,
For what we lost was no heaven at all.
________________________________
Composed in a few hours, and inspired by Milton's Paradise Lost and the concept of the Fortunate Fall as discussed by literary critics such as Arthur Lovejoy, this villanelle embodies the pains of human nature and what it means to lose what was once loved. It explores the tragic partings of those, despite their heavenly love, are not destined to be in their own Eden. Is this predetermined? Or can they overcome their course to hell? My confusion, derived from very relevant and personal experience, is demonstrated in the poem.