A selection of six light poems from the anthology Barbed Wire Rhymes - for anyone who's ever been hurt by love

the lie

Cigarettes for company;
Wine for consolation.
Men are short on sympathy
And love’s a degradation.

Mothers tell us men are only
Interested in sex —
Were this true, I’d be less lonely
Smoke less cigarettes.

mantra

So it’s over then, my several days of smiles,
And I shall now forget you bit by bit.
And though I’ll think of you, once in a while,
Your words were meaningless and you’re a shit.

after the accusation

I listened each minute
For the scrape of the gate
Bringing hands full of flowers
Or eyes full of hate.

Each knock on the door
That froze and that burnt
Was my foot on the floor —
Nothing more. Thus I learnt

As I wondered and fretted
And smoked myself numb
His reaction might be,
Simply, not to come.

water and air

Somewhere in the darkest recess of my mind,
Not even a thought, but a feeling, a bind,
An impulse of the first time I ever breathed air,
How it felt to drink water when my mind was still bare.
In my infant fog, a sudden bar of steel:
I will always need this, this will always be real.
That mind’s now a city — polluted, congested,
Each thought with a dozen other thoughts infested,
But I knew, since the first time his body made me feel:
I will always need this, this will always be real.

Since I lost him, I smoke, I get drunk, I just stare.
I’ve lost my taste for water, lost my taste for air.

song for a music box

I’ve said I sneer at love — I do;
I’ve said I hate you — also true.
But I’d say all with less ado,
Were I not still in love, with you.

swing high

Lovers turn unkind.
You search, but you can’t find
The tenderness behind
The eyes that used to bind
You close, but never mind:
Just leave the shit behind.

Your bedside table’s lined
With cigarettes: you pined,
So he grew cool; you whined
And he grew cruel. You mind,
But leave the shit behind.

The open road is kind.
The music’s loud; unwind,
Accelerate, and find
Your eyes that used to shine
And leave the shit behind.

Try some rich poetry or return to Writing