Portraits

Exile Crisis

~ J.C. FitzDerick ~ Leave a comment

Held at ransom by the Foxton Cartel,
Local 2 bed mansions – guilded
in wheelie bin refuse, styled beaten brick chic.
Unattainable from the past’s sepia optimism.

la vie indisponible
available part ownership, deposit
a 100% addition to the student deficit.
Discounts free
to those with finances pristine Waitrose white.

25% of your days,
for your net total years.
a scheme helping the capital
grasp at the 1%’s remnance.

To venture with an old friend
Or advance a trembling true love,
Inflate your equity
To bleed for the benevolent extortion.

Your life now only available in part-
ownership.

Once Was You

~ J.C. FitzDerick ~ Leave a comment

The crook of her mother’s brow
shapes her earth toned world view,
reducing glitter to dust.
Grains of sun flee her eyes,
washed away
rhythmically lapping at her cut glass cheeks.
Each breath, drawing in a fearfully rose future;
fragile desires dashed
within her insecure moods.
Her palms gasp – parched.
Feet unmoved from where she stood
when she first said hello.

Good Morning

~ J.C. FitzDerick ~ 1 Comment

Half a cup of 20 second brewed tea
the rest poured through the sink
from my wide lipped enamel cup.
My allocated snooze-time the victor, overrunning this morning.

The lone seat left is a child’s naughty step
At the tram’s front facing the wall.
Flying passed crossed junctions with Warsan Shire, Frank O’Hara and Seamus in toe.

Today’s a steely blue
like those eyes that seem to just look right through you…
picking apart your thoughts before they leave your lips.

A cheeky wave to Amaal as I ascend
to the 1st floor where I see the little bees filing in.
Their heads bowed, hands concealed,
rolling lint
remnant of the tissue they forgot in the wash.

Vollies Afire

~ J.C. FitzDerick ~ 1 Comment

My love,

my mouth once knew your name.
far from these grand walls that part us,
thier spiteful spires casting a shadow
over the life of our former other.

From my minaret
to my domain I preach:
Prowess and accomplishments
-spitting
the cinders of burnt love.

From your tower I hear calls to prayer
To drink the wine of projected Perfection.
And with my jealousy concealed,
I no longer observe your commands.

Our social empires impose motionless taunts
our worlds locked in heated stalemate
unblinking,clocking each others move.

What tore us asunder?
My library knows well its history.
I a scholar…
of the downfall
of its date
of the blame.

Between us sand blew hot,
an arid gorge we created,
the empty wind lapping at our crumbling walls.
Within Our domain we’re but void caverns
-to a stale spite.

But Seasons turned, as droughts relief drips cool air,
And our cold war ceases.
Flags, doves    snow     afloat
-freed… In an air without heat.

We
no longer catapulting silence,
regaling all with single sided words,
salt the earth with propaganda;
searing hearts with volleys of words afire.

We
caress with hands sowing seeds of truce

All has been freed by time
Our conflict ended by fatigue;
-a perfunctory peace.

My former love,
I still wonder at your walls
Their shadows reaching my breast,
From what did our war arise?
I still recall
but no longer feel.

Liebster Award

~ J.C. FitzDerick ~ 4 Comments

liebster2

Thank you very much “https://motleysoul.wordpress.com/” for nominating me for this award, I’m humbled and gratfeul.

Also having never heard of this award, and having absolutely no clue what the rules are, so I looked it up (http://wordingwell.com/the-liebster-award-the-official-rules-my-first-blog-award-and-a-few-personal-secrets-revealed/) amd hopefully I accept this in the right way:

The Liebster award is given by bloggers to other up-and-coming bloggers to highlight their work and encourage them to continue.

I have been asked:

1. What/who inspired you to write?

I’ve always loved writing and so no-one person in particular “inspired” me but when of one my close friend’s got a bit more serious about it I thought I’d pursue it a bit more fervently, so began writing rants and poetry, eventually uploading it to my site.

2. What’s your day job?

During the day I’m a Sociology and Psychology teacher.

3. What’s your writing process?

I do a lot of my writing on my phone using google docs, then finishing and revising them till I’m happy with them. Alternatively I write micro poetry on my twitter (https://twitter.com/FitzDerick)

4. What’s your favorite book?

I must admit I do not have an overall favourite, though perhaps closest is “On Entering the Sea, by Nizar Qabbani”

5. What’s your favorite song?

Far too many to account for, let me see what are the 3 most played on my phone though… “Make You feel, Alina Baraz; Moules Frites, Stromae; Apparently J. Cole”.

***

My 5 nominees -in no particular order- are:

https://lockupyourpoetry.wordpress.com/

https://carolinehutchinson.wordpress.com/

https://earthtolar.wordpress.com/

https://poeticdecency.wordpress.com/

https://bluebirdanddeadcat.wordpress.com/

And to my nominees I ask:

  1. What is the driving emotion/motivation that makes you write?
  2. If you could say your soul is colour what colour would it be?
    (or favourite colour)
  3. If you could have dinner with one person and drinks (or tea) with another, who would they be?
  4. What do you hope to give your reader when writing?
  5. What is your favourite word? (Mine’s spatula)

***

I hope you pass on the good will in sharing this interactive award for writing.

P.s. Sorry for the late reply 🙂 and again, thank you Mötley.

Begum

~ J.C. FitzDerick ~ 1 Comment

Her visage a familiar face.
-a granite façade etched content.
Eyes lacquered in tears,
her trembling bust
a vacuum tomb
-clasping at her chest’s air.

She inhales the pain of others,
stealing breaths of distraction,
scavenging peace through neglectful altruism.
In search of an opiate
to soothe her inner hurt
– a moment’s suicide 
                                 in another’s vein.

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