Paula M. Puddephatt Poems

I draw their spirits close to me and breathe,
and still I find, there's something to believe.
I need their energies to make me strong.
I hear the subtle echoes: Samhain's song.
...

coloured lights
swirling
through her mind
tonight
...

I could be said to be
falling in love
with a horse thief,
in spite of myself.
...

You trust. You hurt. I know the score, so why
do I let myself care? Why do I try
at all? Must my emotions always win?
By now, I must be on my final spin.
...

One day, when you've moved on too,
and I'm part of your history -
because, in the end, they always do -
will you think of me?
...

I shut the world out,
but not you, until
maybe in the end, I did -
but, still -
...

How did she know obsessions that are mine?
The ones I hadn't even formed back then?
Could she tell whom I was to meet and when?
I'm with her - on sanity's borderline.
...

She bleeds dark secrets. There is no way back.
She doesn't want to find one, anyway.
The pressure is intense. She starts to crack.
Somehow, she makes it through another day.
...

If false floors and trap doors,
and those fences of barbed wire,
could not keep me away -
...

And if fresh fantasies might see me through,
and give my world a lighter, brighter shade or hue -
must we still question what the mind can do,
or simply accept that, here and now, I write these words for you?
...