Archive for the 'Life' Category

somewhere in the city

Buildings stretch before me
like endless waves of lives.
It’s not your car,
it’s what it represents;
and how I love the one
cycling by at ten to midnight
underneath the plane,
spinning parallel along
the fault lines of the city.

The buildings almost sink into the ground.
It’s not the bricks and concrete,
it’s what they represent;
a living graveyard,
the tombs in which
we keep the breathing.

We are all just waiting.
My lungs live
to rise and fall,
along the gentle tides of my energy
strong, then strong, then weak again.

This time of the month once more,
but for the first time I am letting go.
This place again,
but this time
my lips would tell you no.

my hand unfurls.

You are somewhere in this city,
alone and dark
not thinking of me.
Your jaw clenches in your sleep.
It’s not your tension,
it’s what it represents;
I would have robbed you of your pain,
if I could.  if you’d let me.
Gripped it tight, palm alight,
jagged sharp and burning bright.

I would not have found my own way
following your downward trail.
I need both eyes upturned,
both arms to clear my path.
And you would have stumbled,
without your burning pain
to light the dark.

My hand may be scarred where
you burnt my loving skin,
but it’s not the grip that matters –
but how far we turn within.

May ’14


The Door

I loved her, in the way
you love things you cannot hold.
the breath before the fall,
the vine that teaches you to climb.

she was a door in unexpected places;
high above the ground
“step”, she said
and I did

on the route beneath the road
hand over hand
further up towards
the fear delicious
she smiled –

a smile stolen from the Devil.
Dirt on my hands
and whiskey in my throat.

Many miles from home,
I watched the cars pass below
from our unseen perch
delinquent birds; or bats perhaps

and wondered
how I would weather this wonder
how to handle the way
my world has widened

and the space between
my magic-makers;
my doors
and my freely-given keys.

Oakland, July 2013

28.5.13 montreal

strange hum
like the language I’m surrounded by,
I understand only snippets
an outsider
outside her
outside myself

my grasp of my own language
breaks down
in attempt
to make sense
and maybe
it’s freedom from words
I needed


the universe will catch me.
favourite music,
songs especially mine
play as I walk into cafes
and bookstores –

a smile from the void.

I follow my heart,
my whims
and intuition.
They lead me to
where I need to be.

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.


if i could

poetry says
“I need you”
poetry says
“don’t forget me”
and I can’t

each bookstore reminds me
I could spend every cent on words,
the smell of paper,
devour them all and just need more.

as for my own…
I could spend each day lost
and finding myself
a hundred times over,
write these
letters from the Self in me
to the Self in you
in between the drawings
the photos
the muse-posing
and the music, my master
its voice loud and constant

but of course as always
we must eat
and of course if I
devoured words and arts the way I could&would
the money and time would run dry
and I
would fade bodily into
just the words I left behind



Dark chilli chocolate
short black coffee shot

i feel i could inhale
art through my lips,
soft and sweet
full with the thought of you.

i am restless and ready to fly.
warm air and rain,
this home is love
and I’m ready to miss it.

53 days.


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

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