For anyone who doesn’t know, National Poetry Writing Month begins today. Participants are encouraged to write a poem every day and post it on their blog/webpage/social media so others can see what they have written. I’m currently not ‘in the zone’ for poetry, having spent the best part of my day ‘working from home’ in teacher mode, creating power points for September and beyond on the importance of studying MFL in secondary school and how to create effective GCSE revision flash cards – and I’m relaxing by writing the next instalment of what was originally a 5000 words self- contained short story in the vein of D H Lawrence (think 1930s mining community, Yorkshire dialect, repressed women and lots of symbolism) but which has continued into four chapters so far and could end up being a full length novel.

So, since I’m probably enjoying the fiction more than the school work, I’m going to take inspiration from D H Lawrence and attempt a poem that resonates with the story I’m currently writing.

Heat

Sunlight colours him,

shading his skin

the colour of warm honey,

burnishing his hair

with glints of gold.

He is earth and earthiness,

bursting

with life.

She watches him silently,

her skin alabaster, as cool

to the touch as the heart

inside her.

She is a lifeless

statue:

watching,

waiting –

oh, so unsure.

She watches him toil –

watches the honey coloured

muscles

stand out in stark

relief.

Inside her, a longing for

something she doesn’t know yet

catches a little, like a

match that will not light.

Later, she makes him tea,

her fingers trembling

as the gas will not light.

Gently, he takes the match from

her fingers,

lights the spark,

brings her to life.

Honey coloured flesh and

white alabaster

entangle.