Parched Spirits

Are you a poet? Do you have a way with words? Do you want to share your work with others? Parched Spirits will post all submissions, we know there is beauty in your thoughts.

Name:
Location: Cheltenham, Gloucestershire, United Kingdom

My name is Olivia Harris, I am thirty eight and work as a civil servant in Gloucestershire. I have always loved the beauty of our language, and feel that well-chosen words can be as exquisite as a rare painting, or a lovingly executed sculpture. Poetry has helped heal me, over the last, very difficult and painful years of my life. I feel ready now, to reveal a little more of my true self, and hope that others will share their poetry on this blog too. Email me, or post in the comments Don’t neglect your spirit. Share your words

Thursday, October 05, 2006

Fen

Vast skies a changing canvas:
dark clouds and stormlight
swift- moving, sheeting rain
A dank roof of solid air.

small plants fight their daily battles,
struggling to stay afloat
resisting the creeping pull
of the deep water below.

Each clod of earth a triumph of survival,
hiding between root and stone.
Until the spring floods part leaves
raping fields of loam and clay
to leave a silty wake.
Olivia

"Summer Sucks"

I would like to introduce a new poet - an american female Philip Larkin. Thank you, Fat Sparrow for sharing your stark verse with us

Summer sucks
the life out of me
sweaty Elvis days
too hot to play
four showers a day
and if I had my way
summer would
fuck right off

Fat Sparrow

Wednesday, September 27, 2006

Patient

Patient

Winter is here again
Her papery old purple tongue
Infiltrating my cave, my soul
Extinguising that feeble, warm, flame of hope,
Summer's only gift to me

Now everything is damp, cold, dark again
I am gradually devoured
By the rheumatism of my emotions
Spring will never come for me

Olivia Harris

Friday, March 31, 2006

New Beginnings -and a new poetess!

first a gentle breeze
ripples through the landscape -
the new wind of change
Miss Gan Ching

Wednesday, March 15, 2006

Ghost

I saw you yesterday
you passed me in the street, talking to a friend
you didn't see me.

I stopped and turned
watching you walk away
your familiar lope
Those hands

Your face is etched in my mind forever,
despite my efforts to forget
your jawline, hard
your soft mouth
and unreadable eyes.

And with that brief sighting
my heart filled up with pain:
memory of the pain you caused me
and my ever-present longing
to be with you.

Time's healing, undone
I leant against the wall
senses reeling
your voice in my ears
your taste in my mouth
a synaesthetic tide
flooding my body
as each sensory function merged with the next
triggered by the sight
of you walking away from me again
Olivia

Wednesday, March 08, 2006

Untitled - by Dr Maroon

After the rains come fresh breezes,clearing out the heavy air and refreshing the spirit.

Thank you Dr Maroon for crafting this exquisite piece. Not only does it have a special meaning for me, but, as our friend Miss Redhead pointed out, most aptly, anyone who has survived the bad times, will appreciate these sentiments.

Carefree, a child among the rock pools,
Paddling, in the warm sandy ripples
Inviting water warm,
Calm with fishes
Strong over-arm strokes take him out a bit
The water’s colder here
Not quite so pleasant
A bit of cramp
No panic yet
Although there’s a current now
Bit more effort
Still in control
Bit of a swell
The sea’s gone grey
Full power now
The smallest tug of panic
Just as suddenly
Feet back on the sand
Wading ashore into the sunlight
Warm and dry
But turn and look
This is not his shore
The Rubicon has been crossed.
Dr AHK Maroon

Monday, March 06, 2006

The Wish

If I could find one,
just one friend
to know me,
My loneliness would slip from my shoulders
like a dressing gown
revealing my naked person,
its beauty and its flaws

There can be no greater isolation
than to be around those,
who feel they know who I truly am

All that they know is their own projection,
a likeness of a person,
a rough drawn scrawl on the back of an envelope,
two dimensional, rushed,
a vulgar grasp of two, three traits
at best similar, but never the same.

As the years pass, the distance between
me, and the people who would know me
neither widens nor narrows,
but stays at an eternal, uncomfortable length.
For two paths that meander will surely cross at some point
parallel lines never meet,
the gap between our different life journeys
is filled
with ignorance and sadness.

I am no better.
when I look at colours, mine
is surely a different shade of violet to yours
and what makes my heart tighten,
may leave you tepid.
Yet I would have you share the things
that make my soul soar,
regardless of your own reaction,
because I want you to feel
what it really is like to be me.
Olivia Harris

Tuesday, February 28, 2006

Hole Maker

This poem is pretty raw - but extremely moving. Thank you Miss Redhead for this glimpse into your anguish.

~ Hole Maker ~
An aching heart,
empty of life
void of feeling ~

small glimmers of light,
but they aren't meant for me
no, not for me.


~ Only happy people allowed
even if the grin is pasted on
glued in place


~ What happens when the grin is gone?
what will I do without it?
I can't find it anywhere.

~ Once again, he lashes out
all faults are mine
why? How can he manipulate me like that?

~ Something is wrong
I never should have given him my heart
So in reality, the fault IS mine

~ Like a sinking ship, with only a bucket to slog away the deathly waters
anchored into an existance with no escape
you can't run away, you can't mend the holes

~ afterall, how do you mend holes that you don't make?
the patches never fit
the holes are still there

~ he sees the holes
pretends they aren't there
tells me I'm crazy, there aren't any holes.

~ then he picks up the bludgeoning words
and makes a few more,
points at them

~ Look, you made another hole
What's wrong with you?
he says


~ you'll ruin us all,
making holes like that,
better grab that bucket, try to bail us all out


~Hole Maker~

~unreliable~

~can't depend on you for anything~

~Hole Maker~

~the silent tears unanswered
filling the ship evermore

~there must be another bucket
somewhere
somehow
Miss Redhead