enough to let go – by Ceinwen Haydon

 

he says fuck off   an act of selfless grace
and surfs on waves of pain curled by her distaste
echoes break on shores  in broken conch shells
her whispers of fled love amplify  ungainly and again

he surfs waves of pain curled by her distaste
her dishonest silence  closet-cowardice  end-freighted
her whispers of fled love amplify  ungainly and again
he dares gather  push her out beyond his spurned hungers

her dishonest silence  closet-cowardice  end-freighted
stirs his pity to one last act  intimate with knowing love
he dares gather  push her out beyond his spurned hungers
she/sweeps/away/ on fast currents   he  washed-out  remains

stirs his pity to one last act  intimate with knowing love
echoes break on shores  in broken conch shells
she  sweeps  away on fast currents  he/washed-out/remains
he says fuck off   an act of selfless grace

 

 

 

 

Ceinwen lives in Newcastle upon Tyne, UK, and writes short stories and poetry. She has been widely published in web magazines and in print anthologies. She graduated with an MA in Creative Writing from Newcastle University in 2017. She believes everyone’s voice counts.

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Purple – by Ceinwen Haydon

 

1.
Purple capes me in womanhood, like the maxi-coat I bought, aged eighteen. It gave me buttons to open, one by one, watched by another in my tiny bedsitter. Purple pressed me, girl to woman.

2.
A purple orchid grows in the grass, next to my head. My legs spread, spliced for you. Inspiration, no doubt, for purple prose when you dip your nib in ink for literary purposes, when we are finished. Your book will sell well, and I will cry, hidden by purple drapes – the safety curtain of the theatre.

3.
Purple tunics, shoes, sheets and pillows, all threaded through with blues and patched with reds. Happy purple, plaintive purple, perhaps purple, depending on the day, the night. Today, purple thins to mauve.

 

 

 

 
Ceinwen lives in Newcastle upon Tyne and writes short stories and poetry. She has been widely published in online magazines and in print anthologies. She graduated with an MA in Creative Writing from Newcastle University in 2017.

 

Gooseberry – by Ceinwen Haydon

 

You. Pale green orb, cream-licked,
sprout pubic down of youth,
moonballs flipped from Mars’ sky.
Will you, your bushy branches part
and –
seeing how I pant
hold back your spelky thorns?
Or will stiletto thrusts penetrate
my flesh, draw scarlet wine
from secret folds?

I had a bobble-popper necklace, as a girl,
It shared your hue and glittered
As I sucked each hard blob
whilst writing homework.
I tried not to bite, and yet my teeth
still left sharp-needled scars.
If I taste your juice fresh squeezed
I’ll fall to hell in tart-sweet sin.

 

 

 

 

Ceinwen lives in Newcastle upon Tyne and writes short (and not so short) stories and poetry. She has been published on curated internet sites and in print anthologies. She is currently studying for an MA in Creative Writing at Newcastle University. She believes everyone’s voice counts.