carole ann duffy.

Beloved sweetheart bastard. Not a day since then

I haven't wished him dead, Prayed for it

so hard I've dark green pebbles for eyes,

ropes on the back of my hands I could strangle with.



Spinster. I stink and remember. Whole days

in bed cawing Nooooo at the wall; the dress

yellowing, trembling if I open the wardrobe;

the slewed mirror, full-length, her, myself, who did this



to me? Puce curses that are sounds not words.

Some nights better, the lost body over me,

my fluent tongue in its mouth in its ear

then down till I suddenly bite awake. Love's



hate behind a white veil; a red balloon bursting

in my face. Bang. I stabbed at a wedding-cake.

Give me a male corpse for a long slow honeymoon.

Don't think it's only the heart that b-b-b-breaks.

///

Salome



I'd done it before

(and doubtless I'll do it again,

sooner or later)

woke up with a head on the pillow beside me -whose? -

what did it matter?

Good- looking, of course, dark hair, rather matted;

the reddish beard several shades lighter;

with very deep lines around the eyes,

from pain, I'd guess, maybe laughter;

and a beautiful crimson mouth that obviously knew

how to flatter...

which I kissed...

Colder than pewter.

Strange. What was his name? Peter?



Simon? Andrew? John? J knew I'd feel better

for tea, dry toast, no butter,

so rang for the maid.

And, indeed, her innocent clatter

of cups and plates,

her clearing of clutter,

her regional patter,

were just what needed -

hungover and wrecked as J was from a night on the batter.



Never again!

I needed to clean up my act,

get fitter,

cut out the booze and the fags and the sex.

Yes. And as for the latter,

it was time to turf out the blighter,

the beater or biter,

who'd come like a lamb to the slaughter

to Salome's bed.



In tile mirror, I saw my eyes glitter.

I flung back the sticky red sheets,

and there, like I said -and ain't life a bitch -

was his head on a platter.



- THERES NO REAL REASON FOR POSTING THESE IF I'M HONEST,I JUST LOVE THE DUFFY POEMS. I REMEMBER STUDYING THEM IN ENGLISH BEFORE AND BECOMING INSPIRED BY THIS WOMANS AMAZING ABILITY TO WRITE POETRY AND TRANSFORM THE CONVENTIONAL LOVE POEM INTO SOMETHING QUITE CONTRIVERSIAL AND BEAUTIFUL AT THE SAME TIME.
I WAS LUCKY ENOUGH TO HEAR THIS WOMAN PERFORM EACH OF HER MOST FAMOUS POEMS AT WOLVERHAMPTON BEFORE AS WE WENT ON AN ENGLISH TRIP. THE DAY OVERALL WAS TEDIOUS, IT CONCISTED OF BORING INDIVIDUALS READING THERE DULL POEMS WITH NO SUBSTANCE AND DESCRIBING HOW THEY WERE INSPIRED TO WRITE THEM IN THE FIRST PLACE.
I REMEMBER WHEN DUFFY CAME OUT THOUGH, THE WHOLE MOOD CHANGED IN THE ROOM AND SUDDENLY MOST PEOPLE SAT UP AND SHE BECAME DRAWN IN BY THE WOMAN STANDING AT THE PODEUM RECITING HER POEMS. I SAY MOST PEOPLE, QUITE ALOT DIDN'T GET HER AND WONDERED WHY SHE WROTE ABOUT SUCH THINGS, I LIKED HER THOUGH, I LIKE PEOPLE THAT TAKE A DIFFERENT APPROACH TO THINGS, I PARTICULARLY LOVE HER POEMS BECAUSE YOU HAVE TO SEARCH DEEPER TO FIND THE TRUE MEANING WHICH GIVES THEM DEPTH.
I'D LOVE TO WRITE POETRY, ME AND KERRY TRIED ON THE WAY BACK I BELIEVE, IT WASN'T TO BAD AS I RECALL, NOTHING CAME OF IT THOUGH, IT WENT ON OUR MYSPACE FOR A SHORT WHILE THEN WE TOOK IT OFF, I MAY TAKE MORE TIME TO FIND POEMS LIKE THIS, IT MAY HELP ME DRAW INSPIRATION FOR MY DESIGNS AT SOME POINT.