A Good Executioner – by Gill Lambert

 

I think about you. Your little neck,
bloodless cheeks, the guilt
of your Motherhood,
a small ‘goodbye’ at dawn.

He was silent, barefoot,
bewildering. So you
never knew which side
he took you from.

I wonder about you. My hand
on your leg, mouth watering
at the thought of you.
The way you made me wait.

 

 

 

Gill Lambert is a teacher and poet from Yorkshire. She has been widely published online and in print and her pamphlet Uninvited Guests was published last year by Indigo Dreams. She runs the poetry night ‘Shaken in Sheeptown’ in Skipton.

Head Wetting – by Gill Lambert

 

Here’s to Mandy, from 5b, we all had her.
And losing our virginities to girls with more
experience than us – a drink to them.

A shot for every shag we had with Shaz,
an extra one for those that got a blow-job
off her mate; another for remembering her name.

Then a chaser for the mothers of our kids.
And relationships that lasted any longer
than a quickie in the doorway of the Spar.

Raise a glass to forced paternity, the trap
that pins us firmly to the rails. To giving half
our salaries to exes, via the good old CSA.

Get a round in for the ones who take us back.
Reliable and willing, the lower expectations
of the fools that know us better than we think.

Let’s have another for the road, to toast us all.
To non-existent drive, a lack of all ambition
keeping us rooted in the place where we were born.

 

 

 

Gill Lambert is a poet and teacher from Yorkshire. She has been published in The Interpreter’s House , by Indigo DreamsBeautiful DragonsPaper Swans Press and Otley Word Feast Press; and on-line by The Fat DamselClear Poetry, and Poetry Space. She won the 2016 Ilkley Literature Festival Open mic competition, runs the “Shaken in Sheeptown” event in Skipton, and her first solo pamphlet will be published by Indigo Dreams next year.

Birth Plan – by Gill Lambert

 

I want soft lights and music, perhaps a birthing pool,
I want massages and foot rubs, I want a fan to keep me cool.
I only want one midwife, no drugs just gas and air –
perhaps, if I think I need it, and I’d like my husband there.
I want active, to walk around, between early contractions,
I want a compilation C.D. and as little interaction
as possible. I want tea, toast, organic nuts, a doula and a mentor,
I want a T.E.N.S machine, a hypnotist, my own refrigerator.
I want the baby wrapped up in a blanket of angora,
I want a private room filled with flowers from Interflora.
I want, white noise, whale noise, recorded by Friends of the Earth.
What I really, really want, is a truly natural birth…

I got florescence trial of labour, I got an oxytocin drip,
I got, stay in bed and nil by mouth I got the bip, bip, bip bip, bip,
of a monitor. I got sweaty hair, I got gas and air
and mind-blowing drugs that made me swear,
I got pethidine, and morphine, I got my own anaesthetist
I got panicky, hysterical, I got hot, felt cold, acted pissed.
I got teams of consultants, discussing each contraction,
I got nurses telling me that soon there’d be more action.
I got cannulas, speculums, a doctor with a torch
I got my legs raised, my brow mopped, (yes, really, a torch.)
I got blood taken, meds given, data in plural
and when the pain got really bad, I got an epidural.
I got white lights, bright lights; I got a spinal block,
I got a junior doctor, nervously looking at the clock.
I got surgery and stitches, a scarred bikini line,
a really fit surgeon who told me it’ll all be fine.

And it was fine, it really was,
what they said was true,
I got what I wanted in the end,
what I got was you.

 

 

Gill Lambert is a poet, mum, granny and teacher from Keighley, Yorkshire. She’s a recent graduate of the Creative Writing MA at Leeds Trinity and has been published in The Interpreter’s House , by Indigo Dreams, Beautiful Dragons, Paper Swans Press and Otley Word Feast Press; and on-line by The Fat Damsel, Clear Poetry , I Am Not a Silent Poet and Poetry Space. Gill is working on her first collection.