Birds, Bees and Butteflies
A collection of poems that refuse to be categorised.
IP: Red dress and Spider I curse it! Just another whore in a red dress on any street corner.
It was a wet and windy night, though not necessarily in that order...
Cigarette butts smudged into the stone Dreaming of smoke and skin Like an urban mural left to blemish The pavement
IPOW: On googling 'Rebecca Hainsworth' I discovered that my namesake teaches creativity and problem solving through music to young childrem in Salt Lake City.
My body was a canvas for their hatred. My fear-whitened skin stretched over a fragile frame of bone
This poem was inspired by the horror movie 'The Omen' and is quite different to anything I've ever written before.
This poem is based on a real place, a park I often played at in my chilhood. It explores the idea of freedom and is my first poem with only one punctuation mark.
My take on the modelling industry and how not everything that seems perfect actually is perfect.
Paris. August. Freeze frame. The People’s Princess fades into white light, Though she never quite reaches The end of the tunnel.
In the playground We gathered around the fortune teller With his flapping paper mouth, Pinched between anxious fingers.
The world is angled in black and white. I long for the soft curves of spring and all its shapely colours, blooming like a fist unclenched.
I behaved myself for months and was allowed some acrylics and canvas. After I painted over the security camera, tried to hang myself with my bed sheets.
IP: Spring Each mauve petal folds into a balloon, straining its stem-string, wishing to rise into burning blue circles of sky; kites, birds - love songs.
Rhythm spreads from the poem in rings, vibrating the water, kissing my toes in iambic pentameter. It congregates around the couplet of my ankles.
The corpses of crabs float bloated and white, belly up in the shallows; the ghosts of spiders - condemned to the jaws of a plughole.
It was you who thrust the poem into the corner and continued to kick while it cowered - just to see what happens when it bleeds.
Eva Braun, Adolf Hitler's mistress and eventual wife, attempted suicide twice before meeting Hitler. Then, on 30th April, 1945, she committed suicide, along with Hitler, using a cyanide capsule.
Another tanka - a structure which includes a haiku followed by a couplet with seven syllables in each line.
It's the morning after the night before, and Nicola's world becomes all the more surreal when she finds her one night stand's teenage brother helping himself to breakfast in the apartment.
Marie de France's 'Bisclavret' howls at the moon like a wolf. 'The Assistant' mutters to itself in Yiddish. The window is full to the brim with stars, and poems rise up like unanswered prayers.