I love writing poetry! Yesterday I wrote a poem about what goes on in my head, particularly at Christmas. I am going to perform this poem at an online jam in the middle of December. I hope you like it! (Bit bonkers, but that's me...)
What goes on in my head (at Christmas)?
Another year older,
I’m bolder but bewildered
by the troll, a blue mole,
who sits on my shoulder.
He controls the hole in my soul,
foaling shoals of purple visions.
I see three snakes. Not fake ones,
but reeking stoked up poison,
boiling, moist, slippery,
prickly sensate, singing
“We three kings of Orient are!”
The snakes are flaky, they crack,
taken. Their wake is the appearance
of the incoherent but decadent elephant
who wants to drink gin.
We down a glass (each),
as the elly gathers welly
and – with a brolly – leaps into the abyss.
Next, I’m kissed by a curse.
I see my hearse, I’m broken.
I watch my bawdy body being taken
fried up like bacon, then rotting, in a coffin.
I try to breathe beneath these visions.
Their stubborn frisson is a villainous,
constant, invasive emission.
I am imprisoned, but driven and glistening,
elevated, even.
I hear a parrot singing “Silent Night”,
perched upon a pirate’s turret.
With my trident, I sing along,
heartened that my own night will never be silent.
Lorna Collins, December 2020.