Mould Me

Why not dance between fingers tormented by struggle?

Why not bounce, forcing yourself into positions that awake your spirit? 

Why lay there, still and numb to the pressure of it all? 

Why not break, cracking like age does on skin for fear to have space to grow in? 

Why not fall, leaping to the palms that’ll love you once more, a pleasure you never thought could ignite again? 

Why not exist, in this moment, this place, where her hands touches you in places you are afraid to look at yourself?

3 Comments Add yours

  1. BME Volunteers says:

    I started reading and did not stop until the last. Not the rhythm or fluency which varied but overall was emotive and captivating from my perspective, but what you may mean by some of what you write absent of textbook definitions and related comprehension was what I considered would be a good question to ask! I hope it is not patronising to recognise the quality and talent embedded in your arrangement and assembly of words and meaning and the images, thoughts and emotions they evoke from my point of view but mindful I am not a ‘critic’ nor editor or writer or even at reading well at that. Although! I take satisfaction from having read your work and wish to thank you for that. Happy Everything Peaceful & Blessed Regards


    1. Thank you so much for taking the time to read my poem I appreciate it so much.

      I am unsure what it is you are asking me. To start off let me just address the fact that you are NOT patronising in any way, shape or form. Moving on, I wrote the poem using my usual style of writing (no structure) but I was keen on it having some sort of flow, something that creates a natural rythm for itself.

      The poem is based off my journey and I speak about myself from someone else’s perspection. I guess I am trying to confront those thoughts I no longer allow fester. I am unsure if this answers your question but thank you once again for taking the time to read the poem.


  2. Angel says:



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