We’ve all adopted new habits during lockdown – whether it’s working out or baking or journaling or pondering the meaning of life while we get to grips with Russian grammar. So if you’re in need of inspiration, below are 10 things I’ve found myself doing more and more as a result of lockdown in a bid to be a less shit human.
I'm sorry I didn't ask you how you were As we tumbled down the stairs Like soldiers in formation I'm sorry for not tapping on your shoulder And saying howdy how's it going Instead of staying silent Humming like a torch's bulb. You see my hair was sticking to my cheeks Stuck something silly like… Continue reading Minor occasions
And she sat up there Words like rose petals floating from mouth to floor And I'm just perched here in awe Having travelled an hour and a half door to door To listen to words that are honey-like Dripping into the mic Sweet and inspiring Forehead perspiring (don't all of ours) And I'm fearful for… Continue reading Friday TCR
And I'll stand in the middle of the carriage Entwined around a bar Legs wedged around rucksack Head resting on the pole And instead of feeling exposed In a sea of people - the only one standing I toughed it out and remained there lurking Could have hop-footed to the end And hidden by that… Continue reading The middle of the carriage
On the day of my departure, I spotted a corner in her bedroom and thought about what might happen if I stayed there. Lurking, hiding, tugging at the duvet with nimble fingertips... the corner looked so comfortable, so peaceful. Shrouded beneath micro-fibres and cat hairs which always flutter up my nose and make my chest… Continue reading The Irish Goodbye.
I'm trying to remember what I was like at sixteen. Hair flat, nails worn, a thick shell weighing heavily down on my back, I fell in love with a rockstar with thick, tousled locks and tight, leather pants. He was better than any boy I'd gazed at, any boy whom I'd written to on MSN.… Continue reading Sixteen.
With oodles of stuff greasing our palms The charcoal children across the pond look on enviously. Candle holders, glitter bralets, pasty camera lenses Stuff pours from the crevices of the West. I sit at my computer, bug-eyed in front of Primark hauls Poundland hauls, bikini hauls This is what I bought, this is how it… Continue reading Stuff.
We went to a place yesterday. Where human whales flopped over beach chairs, sunburnt tourists fanned themselves with Daily Mail up-turned cones and bright beams of light fell from the sky. I so desperately wanted to be the Beach Boys' surfer girl, tousled dirty blonde hair falling all over a speckled back and shiny shoulder… Continue reading Surf’s down