strangelittlepearls.blogspot.com
Strange Little Pearls: Strange Little Poems
http://strangelittlepearls.blogspot.com/2015/04/strange-little-poems.html
Book nerd. Poet. Wannabe mermaid. Wednesday, 1 April 2015. Just a slow gold smouldering in the grate. A line here if I'm lucky, a single image there. An exquisite state of frustration every writer knows. How to find the minutes, when the hours slip through the fingers like small change. How to find the words, when the brain has gone mute. It feels like waiting for lightning to strike. To be scorched by it; to be that lucky. 1 April 2015 at 19:06. Yes, yes please! 1 April 2015 at 21:32. 20 May 2015 at 15:...
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Strange Little Pearls: "And in that moment, I swear we were infinite..."
http://strangelittlepearls.blogspot.com/2015/03/and-in-that-moment-i-swear-we-were.html
Book nerd. Poet. Wannabe mermaid. Sunday, 29 March 2015. And in that moment, I swear we were infinite.". Sometimes I am so struck by wonder that it feels like a bruise. Water, and light. Stars, and darkness. Moons, and poetry, and love. The long blonde slices of light the sun sends through the blinds to stripe the wooden floors like sleeping tigers. Maybe I've died already, hundreds of years ago, and somewhere in the future, my daughter's daughter's daughter is holding a sepia photo, fingertips finding h...
strangelittlepearls.blogspot.com
Strange Little Pearls: February 2014
http://strangelittlepearls.blogspot.com/2014_02_01_archive.html
Book nerd. Poet. Wannabe mermaid. Friday, 28 February 2014. Birthday on Tuesday, and now. I am thirty three. I say it to myself with something like wonder. It seems impossible. That those numbers apply to me. They are vast, immense, as old as the stars; a whole universe in the curve of double figures. When I was twenty (and twenty five, and twenty nine), I imagined thirty three as a far off continent. Things would be different there, things would be simpler. I would be a mother, perhaps, with. That eithe...
strangelittlepearls.blogspot.com
Strange Little Pearls: "Give wine. Give bread. Give your heart back to itself".
http://strangelittlepearls.blogspot.com/2015/06/give-wine-give-bread-give-your-heart.html
Book nerd. Poet. Wannabe mermaid. Sunday, 28 June 2015. Give wine. Give bread. Give your heart back to itself. The same question I asked last year, and the year before that: where do the hours go? I took photographs of everything: the oysters we ate in a rooftop jazz bar; the. Bridge spoking out against the sky; the seats on the subway, the colour of Spanish oranges; the elegant brownstones frothing with magnolia flowers, miles high. Until my eyes are so full I feel they could burst, and send sentences o...
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Strange Little Pearls: November 2013
http://strangelittlepearls.blogspot.com/2013_11_01_archive.html
Book nerd. Poet. Wannabe mermaid. Sunday, 3 November 2013. The clocks were turned back last weekend, so the days have been suddenly and thinly compressed. The light starts to fail at around three o’clock, the yellow trees dimming as the grey deepens. By five o’clock, we are sunk in darkness: the wet ground duplicates the office windows, the streetlights shoulder their sodium haloes and the shy moon begins her slow climb through the earth’s turn. Two weeks today, I will be flying to. Last year was bitter.
strangelittlepearls.blogspot.com
Strange Little Pearls: "There will be time to wonder, 'Do I dare?', and 'Do I dare?'"
http://strangelittlepearls.blogspot.com/2015/03/there-will-be-time-to-wonder-do-i-dare.html
Book nerd. Poet. Wannabe mermaid. Sunday, 15 March 2015. There will be time to wonder, 'Do I dare? And 'Do I dare? I'm meant to be creating today, but the words won't come. Instead, I lie under blankets on C's bed while he works in the corner under one of those desk-lamps with the flexible neck. I link from blog to blog, looking for new words to love. I like the beautiful ones best, the ones that string sentences together like pearls. I decided, something fast, and furious. 15 March 2015 at 18:35. Nothin...
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Strange Little Pearls: February 2015
http://strangelittlepearls.blogspot.com/2015_02_01_archive.html
Book nerd. Poet. Wannabe mermaid. Saturday, 21 February 2015. Be in love with your life; every detail of it.". Those days, when the tides inside crest and swell, and your soul, like the foam on the curl of a wave, rides it all out, in the simplest of joys, high in the blue, close to the sky. Those days when bad luck or a black mood is nothing but the vaguest memory, nothing but ash in the fire of your cairn, and you burn with absolute clarity, you burn with focus and calm. Let me hold onto this for alway...
strangelittlepearls.blogspot.com
Strange Little Pearls: "Into the blue, into the blue blue blue..."
http://strangelittlepearls.blogspot.com/2015/07/into-blue-into-blue-blue-blue.html
Book nerd. Poet. Wannabe mermaid. Saturday, 11 July 2015. Into the blue, into the blue blue blue.". Summer this year is the X on a treasure map: a spill of light and gold that we know is out there, but is proving impossible to find. It is buried under weeks of stone-greys and mizzling rains, the occasional glint of a sunny afternoon like a lone coin under a boot-heel. Where is the prize? The cache of gold mornings, the smelted afternoons, the doubloons of a hundred suns, glinting, glinting? I saw a fox o...
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Strange Little Pearls: October 2013
http://strangelittlepearls.blogspot.com/2013_10_01_archive.html
Book nerd. Poet. Wannabe mermaid. Tuesday, 1 October 2013. Matters of the Heart. The bees are flying.they taste the Spring.". Wintering', Sylvia Plath. A blogless August, a blogless September. Where do the days go, and the months? The last of the sunshine slips through my fingers like water; the last leaves litter the lawn, crackling underfoot like tiny fires. I wake in the dark and go to sleep in the dark; my days are bracketed by blackness and stars. While my school-friends were doodling names in noteb...
strangelittlepearls.blogspot.com
Strange Little Pearls: March 2015
http://strangelittlepearls.blogspot.com/2015_03_01_archive.html
Book nerd. Poet. Wannabe mermaid. Sunday, 29 March 2015. And in that moment, I swear we were infinite.". Sometimes I am so struck by wonder that it feels like a bruise. Water, and light. Stars, and darkness. Moons, and poetry, and love. The long blonde slices of light the sun sends through the blinds to stripe the wooden floors like sleeping tigers. Maybe I've died already, hundreds of years ago, and somewhere in the future, my daughter's daughter's daughter is holding a sepia photo, fingertips finding h...
