Image, ‘Writing Apparatus’ by Kazalreth on Flickr (available here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/kaushiknarasimhan/4504860888/) Creative Commons licensed for reproduction.
The poet and fantasy writer Roz Kaveney, who will be reading with me at my novel reading on Friday, has very kindly agreed to let me share some of her wonderful poetry with you here. Hope you enjoy them as much as I.
The hedge is thick. Loose twigs lash at our eyes
-you’d think a gardener would prune them neat.
My cheeks sting. There’s a tangle at my feet
and in my head. And every lover tries
to walk this maze or others with some grace.
We do not blush to lose, but to be lost
embarrassing humiliating cost
of loving. We all end up in this place
dark and confused, unable to turn right
though people always tell us that’s our way
to find the centre, the way out. It’s day
or was just now, yet suddenly it’s night.
I’ve walked for hours and hear her lonely cry.
Somewhere in darkness, she’s as lost as I.
Sword notched from kills, ugly hooked gets things done.
His blank face metal cold. Her limbs spill out
twisted into our space. There is no doubt
in either of them. Streamers in the sun
from neck and staring head her venom blood
frozen from time to bronze. Titanic size
menace from both the living and dead eyes.
Both monsters that would kill us if they could.
Violence frozen out of molten heat,
Cellini made it. He had killed and knew
something that’s here lovely deformed and true.
Swift feathered sandals on the hero’s feet
caught in this moment that once flowed hot fast
filed spurs left when he took it from its cast.
-All poetry by Roz Kaveney, copyright R. Kaveney. For more poetry, please see Roz’s poetry journal at: http://rozk.livejournal.com/470582.html?nojs=1