Tag Archives: fall

Fall From Grace

I dug this out of my hard drive and dusted it off, just for you guys. Heads up, it’s another strange one.

Fall From Grace

the tension
the spark ignites tinder
glances from burning windows
falling away from the sun
feathers moulting away from shoulders
flutter falter plunge
to the sea
sea of desire
flounder flap drown
siren song
draws the swimmer down
shimmering scales
flitting fins
webbed fingers
arms encircle
fascination with the unknown
tightening embrace
cruel parody of an embrace
jagged yellow fangs
sink into
a dream?
soft creeping darkness
edges of vision
warmth replacing cold
red; black; grey; white.

© Bridget Noonan, 2010, 2012.

Where did I even come up with this? Oh, my rat-maze brain.

“I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.
I do not think that they will sing to me.”  
Prufrock, T.S. Eliot



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Haiku time!

I wish I knew how
to coax out a good haiku
but they won’t bloom here.

Yes, it’s that time again- time for a series of haiku poems. You know you love it.


if I could stop now
our summer would never end
but time continues

autumn brings colour
heralds the death of the year
and the end of us

snow falls softly now
returns me to a blank slate
winter at its best

fresh green shoots spring forth
from their mother’s warm embrace
I begin again.

© Bridget Noonan, 2012.

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In Repair

Okay, so there are like a million different ways that people put their emotional and mental recovery into metaphor. I like this way.
I own this poem; I don’t own the many songs or other creative things also titled “In Repair”. But if you also like Our Lady Peace, we should be friends. The John Mayer song is pretty cool too; not as cool as OLP, but it’s hard to be that cool without being Canadian. 😛 Kidding, I’m not some ultra-nationalist sneering at every other place. I just figure that there’s not enough respect for Canada, so I do what I can to stir some up.

And I’m not saying I’m all the way “recovered” (because who the hell is?), but every day is another step that I take back up the stairs to …happiness, I guess. I don’t know what’s at the top of the stairs. I know what’s at the bottom, and thank insert-your-deity-or-higher-power-of-choice-here that I didn’t get there, because it’s kinda hard to get back from dead.

Annnnd now it’s poetry time.

In Repair

School had me feeling
Like I missed a stair on
The way down- heart in my
Throat, bracing for impact,
But for years.

As I bumped down the steps,
Parts of myself fell off.
After a while, you forget
They are missing at all.
Before this

Realization, my
Self-image was a wreck–
I mentally lopped off
What hadn’t been sliced off
In ribbons.

The clink of screws and bolts
The taste of copper, blood–
How could I miss the stair
And end up thumping down
To ruin?

Loathing, gloating, snorting,
The jeers, the leers, the sneers,
Do not have the power
To take what belongs to
Me alone,

So I must gather up
Dignity, self-respect,
All these tattered things that
Drop to the wayside when

Is wrong, is pain, is doubt;
When regret seems stronger
Than the steel of my soul
In the shape of a spring,
Burns so bright.

Regret holds less power
Over me now, only
The power I give it.
I can return to the
Times before

Without losing pieces;
Instead, I become a
Magnet for the things I
Left behind on the stairs
I slid down.

Now, I must climb back up,
Gathering odds and ends
To solder and sew on;
Not the same as before,
But better.

© Bridget Noonan, 2011.

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