Tuesday, 29 May 2012

Pain and Pleasure

09:22:00 Posted by Lara Clayton , , 1 comment

There are the rare poems that find their way onto the page without much worry; they are exactly as you imagined them, they carry no disappointment – but, as I said, they are extremely rare. Poetry is never usually that easy and effortless; like a relationship it asks for commitment, time and work. And just like our everyday relationships, poetry can be a chaotic blend of turbulence and calm, love and hate, pain and pleasure. There is nothing simple or uncomplicated about poetry – it is a mirror of life: full of both moments of joy and moments of great disenchantment.


They were a delight as you brought them home,
fresh and fragrant like pleasure,
wrapped in layers of cellophane and paper.

You’d chosen them by colour: yellow and purple,
the shades I liked best.
Told me that they were bright with love.

Now, they have dried and dulled like regret.
The green stems grey with mould,
the water unclear and stagnant...

My heart lost at the bottom of a glass vase.

Thank you for reading,


Ashley R Lister said...

This should be the first poem in your collection.

Great post.