Archive for the 'Body' Category


I wake up and
my body feels like half a body.
Lying naked on my side,
I see myself in two dimensions.
Pink paper doll.
If I rolled over I’d expose the space
of something missing,
half a body
empty, hollow,
like a stage set building
elaborate on one side
exposed beams on the other.
Here’s the plywood prop
holding up my lung.
Here’s the ways
I spend my days
doing my best to fill the space,
determined to feel whole
on my own
but it’s too late;

my body is just half a body.


new york, may 2013

in new york
i met my hidden fear
exposed in bright lights

i have spent my life
wanting less of me;
ashamed to exist, bodily,
afraid to take up space.

pleading –
can’t i be
a beautiful idea
pure light
wisp of thought?

years spent trying to fade.
how was I surprised
when I failed to shine?

fire with no fuel.
song with no strength.

you cannot forge a path
apologising for your presence.
striving to be small –
you cannot grow.

so, now
can I step forward?
is there space for me
at my truest?
is there room
for my honest heart
at its fullest?

am i able?

the paths are wider here,
the people flow.
but i still fear.
i do not know.



Weight – I 

This body
I am contained within
this shudder and slouch
imprisonment and confinement
weights of flesh, juddering
through life, a weight
so inexplicably
yet inescapably

Harbouring revulsion
i am a dancer
i just want to be
i just want to
blend in
with beauty
i just want

Weight – II

This mind
I am contained within
a swing so strange
imprisonment and confinement
weighed in silence, a view
Irrational; yet so believable
each extreme
and self control
stolen sleep

I was a dreamer.
I just want to feel
I just want
to see
the blend;
I just want

September ’07

small one

I want to call her “small one”
because I love to bestow affection
But I become concerned for her self-esteem.

She is a tall spirit
and it is this
barely-contained in her small figure
which endears her to me.

so when I say “small one”
little sunshine angel
I really mean
“small one” and “tall one”
funny, quirky, beautiful wonderful one
wandr’ing one
wondering one

and everything in between.

July ’07 


like a heady wine
I was a fruit juice
that turned dangerous.
Sometimes it feels as though
I skipped the trainingbras and went straight
to DD.

suddenly from scrawny tomboy
climbingtrees scrapingknees
to this woman
breaking hearts
getting mine broken –

suddenly my energy is wild
my strangeness is sensual
I have a place in this big ol’ world and sometimes –
sometimes I am afraid to wonder
what my littleself would have thought of thisme.

I don’t know where the inbetween time went –
But now I feel… I wasn’t thrown or pushed into this.
I danced into these curves,
Learnt the joys of pantydancing & negligees…
making love,
climbing trees…
yes… yes, I am still me.

January ’07


rhythmic-lyrical streamlets of water run down my body
like poetry when I’m inspired,
like someone turned the faucet on with their voice.
the smell of my wet skin
is coiled around me,
permeating through the years –
it’s always been the same and I
have always loved it.
Morning water pushes on and across me,
and comfort
making my nakedness happy with itself,
as your nakedness does –
matching, beautifully fitting in
with my curves
knowing the way
the so-closely-fitting two halves
to a whole lot of love,
the two feelings
which make up everything in between.
Knowing the way,
and like your fingers the water follows
only you and it know my body so well
the paths
its way

January ’07


I am beating out the rhythm of tomorrow
– or beating in –
onto, into, my bum.
I am walking through this alleyway,
slapping my arse
like there’s no tomorrow
(because I’m hoping like hell that there will be.)

I’m singing,
I’m the breath of this fresh smell and
concrete, tarmac after the rain,
I am all their umbrellas
and the wind which pulls them,
my hair is so messed.

I stink but it’s a good stink.
It’s me and it reminds me of you
you, and the way you told me
my smell is me
and that I turn you on.

I am and I am hearing
My own footsteps on the street,
reverberating in the alleyway like
something poetic goes here.

Sometimes I catch a sight
or the smell of you
passing me by
and I want just to tell you,

You really fucking turn me on too.

September ’06


This blog is the collection of my poetry and prose, in chronological order from most recent to oldest.

Constructive critique is actively encouraged!

I am usually singing words as well as writing them, and make lots of other art. You can find me & my other art at any of the below links. x

Latest quick update…

Error: Twitter did not respond. Please wait a few minutes and refresh this page.





All content on this blog © Rebecca Tilley, 2003-present