The writing and photography of Mandy Joy Poole
poem
could have been Anthony
my jaw clicks it is the same click shared by my uncles and my dad i often wondered had i been born with- out a purpose had i been an Anthony instead of what i am would i be any different? would i be a parent a poet a-fraid i have built engines i […]
Moreif you read it fast, it’s better
i found the draft and caught the chill between my fingers time passes quicker than street lights 20 seconds later we all stop and watch the youngster cross the road holding our breath hoping everyone’s obeying the rules this road is long and soggy, it’s the TLH in April when you’re never quite sure you […]
Moreforget.release
meet me at my watery edges cast your judgements aside and find that you are free there are no eyes on you but mine forget release accept fate and all of its disclaimers the distance between you and your desires is a fleeting thought amongst the rot of your doubt forget release cast your judgements […]
Morethe good dark
I wonder how long it will take you to forget what my face looks like – what my hands feel like. All the silly promises we made took off in the take off. My life will not be a bestseller I will still be here enjoying the good darkness in light of all opinions growing […]
Moreevery night
maybe I do go to the valley of the shadow of us every night I smell that woodsmoke I see that constellation I am alone in the in-between where you and I were and whatever’s next it’s safe to say there’s nobody like you it’s safe to say I broke my heart too every night […]
Morekintsukuroi
waiting for something that resembles gold when life is a whole lot of copper maybe tomorrow will be different when the sun breaks they call it dreaming but i’m most often awake to watch the clouds slide by and every second feels like i’m too late feeling my days slip away from the same point […]
Moreearly February
every day another line in my eulogy how many pages will I fill? i built the city of me on unrequited dreams sitting, wishing, waiting change is coming M.
Morerest assured.
Yes, I think about you. All the time. All the time I so gleefully wasted, fully aware you would leave. I still don’t know why I did it. I guess it was like fool’s gold- pretty on the outside, but lacking value. I wanted everything I had until it recycled me. M.
Moreskin
I decorate my skin with signs that I’ve felt something, signs that I’ve done things in my life. Made memories. Had dreams and desires. I decorate my skin in black ink; starkly contrasted on my sensitively white yet native body. I decorate my skin with modern fragrances to wash away all the scents that say […]
Morethink of me like a house
think of me like a house with a hundred compact rooms filled with antiques and broken mirrors the bones are still good think of me like a house with mismatched chairs and vaulted ceilings my height is my advantage think of me like a house where you hold your love for safe keeping where your […]
MoreBad Apples, National Poetry Month reading at the HVGB Town Hall Pt. 2
My view today as I read my poetry at the town hall. I mostly scribble my thoughts on small pieces of paper and today I stood with a clipboard full and it felt like I was yelling at an invisible bully. My poem, Bad Apples, was about Goose Bay’s uneducated response to the federal governments […]
Morea person abroad.
Life is a storybook and I’m trying to accept these characters For what they’re destined to be Trying to accept the fates and fortunes The fools and follies The givers and takers The glass-half-broken folks And people who claim to have no glass I need you. More than I’ve needed most things, because I’m scared of […]
Moreuntethered
my heart is a carpenter’s light fixture exposed wires, dusty lightbulb hanging above the room (perhaps the elephant within it) above the truth a quiet referendum all the flowers have been picked my grief untethered. M.
Morebeneath everything
if i were to describe the way in which i feel about you, it would best be described as a hum you know that constant sound that’s always present even when no other sounds are even in complete silence, no movement, no action, just the sound of your own breath… you still hear that hum […]
MoreLove In September
the moon tore apart the fleshy clouds and we drank from her light every last drop like stolen property silence spreads across the sky blanketing our sorrows your love is immeasurable M.
Morethe daisy
a marriage of words soaked together with rosé grade school playground feelings things still look black and white still basic, still innocent, still free (if only you knew) — where is your light, when the dark creeps in? it’s funny, i’m more comfortable in the dark. i cover my face like it means something to […]
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