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M.M Graham
Winner
of our Top 5 Poets of
August 2003 Online
Competition
I was born in the
sixties, in Dunfermline, Scotland and
still live in that general area today.
I left school aged fifteen with very
little qualifications and was married
before my seventeenth birthday. The
marriage didn't last and we divorced
in the late eighties. I now enjoy my
freedom and have no plans at present
to get married again. I'm one of those
independent women that you hear so
much about...
I started writing
poetry in June 2002. I wrote one poem,
titled - Just a girl. It was meant to
be a one-off thing, just a bit of text
to fill a space on a graphics web page
I was making. I had no plans to ever
write again and I didn't expect anyone
to actually read it, much less like
it! It was read and enjoyed (much to
my surprise) and I was invited to join
an online poetry group. I haven't
looked back since then and have spent
the last year writing, and have
enjoyed it immensely. I now write
poetry in various forms, short
stories, and I am currently thinking
about attempting to write my first
novel. So as you can see, writing has
become a way of life for me, and I
can't imagine not being able to
express myself in this manner now. It
has also given me the opportunity to
make many new wonderful friends
through sharing words on the Internet
and I would like to thank those
people, especially Debra, for all the
kind words of encouragement.
I don't have one
particular subject that I like to
write about, it's usually just what's
in my head at the time and I go with
the flow, so it's a bit of an
adventure really!
I do find though, that I have a lot of
poems about depression and also quite
a few works that turned into dark
stories in poetic form. I think I have
been influenced by poems such as
Tennyson's The Lady of Shallott or
Wilfrid Wilson Gibson's eerie poem
Flannan Isle.
I have been lucky
enough to have a lot of my work
accepted for anthologies by various
publishers in the UK and the USA. I
also have eleven of my poems published
in a recent Forward Press Spotlight
Poets anthology, titled - Time
Standing Still ISBN 1 84077 091 0. The
book features the work of twelve
poets, and I was thrilled to be
included in that publication. I guess
at some point in the future, I might
think about putting together my first
collection of poetry, but for the
moment, I am just happy to have been
in the spotlight with those other
writers and to have some of my work
featured on this website.
Whether you like my poetry or not, I
thank you for reading.
Movement
One ray of light
pierces its way
through the shuttered window.
Within it, I can see
dust particles moving in the air.
They rise and dip,
dancing on a current
that I cannot feel.
I had thought my life
was completely still,
but now I see
that there is movement
all around me.
Time moves,
the air moves,
and dust moves.
It dawns on me
that eventually it will be
the movement of time
that will stir the air
where my dust
will dance in the light.
Only then, will I move again.
Love Letters
You lie on my page
like a lover,
nakedly stark,
boldly daring.
Staining the white sheet
with anticipation.
Opening my eyes
to endless possibilities
while you
tease me,
seize me,
please me.
Letting your virginal form
seduce me into thinking
there can be
a happy ending.
But still, you lie.
Dinner
For Sinners
We
sat down to a black-tie dinner.
Myself and thirteen other sinners.
It was a formal affair, to say the
least,
and our host, a very cunning beast.
All was quiet, with nothing said,
while I sat there, dressed in red.
And fourteen faces, looking pale,
all had come with souls for sale.
Nervous people, who all knew,
our host had plans to take a few
and the table was the bargaining place
where sinful deals would be embraced.
We wanted fame, we wanted fortune,
and some would get that very soon.
We didn’t care what we’d have to
pay
so long as we could have our way.
Our host was gracious to his guests
while he listened to our last
requests,
for those who didn’t catch his eye
would give their lives that night, and
die.
And what he thought, was hard to see,
so I kept hoping he’d favour me.
And fourteen souls were doing their
best
to be the one who most impressed.
And dreadful sinner that I am,
I longed to take the Devil’s hand.
To walk with him, away from there
and live my life without a care.
I wasn’t thinking of the day
when I would give my soul away,
or that Hell would wait for me,
and there I’d burn, eternally.
My thoughts were only of my greed,
of things I wanted, things I need,
and I had to have them straight away
for I couldn’t wait another day.
So I longed to hear my host speak
and damn the ones who were too weak.
I craved to know whom he’d applaud
and pick to take their dark reward.
So the Devil held all the aces
as he gazed on fourteen faces.
He took our requests into review,
and then he named his chosen few.
To my relief, I was one,
and my downward path had begun.
So I got up, and left the table.
But many more weren’t able…
Now
I live just how I want,
but thoughts of Hell do still haunt,
and one day I will feel the heat,
of the fire, at the Devil’s feet.
I know there will be, no mercy,
as the path I travel was picked by me.
And I’m banished from Heaven’s
places
for being one of those fourteen faces.
And some days, I live in fear,
of his envoy coming here,
to take me down the burning stairs
before I’m ready and prepared.
But that choice will not be mine.
I’ll have to go when it’s time.
For I put my soul out on the line,
and sold it while I sat to dine.
But now I find I’m saying prayers
to the man who lives upstairs.
And I’m not sure that he can hear,
as this sinner’s voice isn’t
clear.
So everyday I look for a sign,
that he has heard my words this time,
and unless he answers my desperate
cry,
I’m bound for Hell when I die…
Eternity
In A Feather Bed
Mama
says I should settle down,
find a man and wed.
Have the house, have the kids
and a big old feather bed.
Get a dog, the family kind,
a car that’s safe and slow
Have a guy who’ll mow the lawn,
and know all there is to know.
Someone I’ll look up to,
a light to guide my way,
who’ll tell me how to live my life
forever and a day.
But
Mama, I just wasn’t made that way.
I
think I need a car.
One that’s sleek and fast.
Be speeding to excitement.
Have affairs that never last.
I don’t want the band of gold,
or a love that ties me down.
I don’t need the house, the kids,
or days where I just frown.
And I’d dread eternity in that
feather bed,
where the years would slow, then
still.
So Mama, I know I disappoint you,
but I’m not that kind of girl.
Where
Angels Sleep
Down
the path, through the gate.
Daylight waning, growing late.
Shadows danced, about to creep
into the place where angels sleep.
Dearly beloved, carved in stone,
there I stood, on my own.
Minutes passed without a sound.
Damp earth cold on hallowed ground.
Time goes by, till footsteps fall,
I saw the gypsy, heard her call.
She looked at me with wary eyes,
caught her breath and then she sighed.
She shivered, blinked, and looked
around;
darkness soon would be unbound.
Nothing stirred that dreary place,
and there she gazed with weathered
face.
She found her courage, becoming bold,
curious to see what would unfold.
I asked to hear of future days,
to use her gifts, her mystic ways.
She wanted coins, a worthy trade,
but her hope of that began to fade.
I gave a promise, she took the token,
and so the truth was to be spoken.
She grasped my hand, saw the signs,
read the secrets in the lines.
The gypsy cried at what she spied,
and knew at once that I had lied.
She spun around and tried to flee,
desperate to get away from me.
I caught her quickly; remaining calm,
I smiled at her, and closed my palm.
She looked at me with growing dread,
holding the secrets that she’d read.
Her mind recoiled. She began to weep.
She’d looked too far, seen too deep.
She prayed the Lord her soul to keep,
and I left her there, where angels
sleep.
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