The writing and photography of Mandy Joy Poole
can you feel me retreating? i tuck my tail in head for the river to drink from the water and replenish all that was lost in the continuum we rallied under street lights sifted through snowstorms because we had to make our own fun make fun lone wolf lonely we were all animals in waiting…
what if I miss you and those are the only feelings I have left to feel what if I’m so tired my eyes won’t open all the way I miss all the signs danger, danger no stops for 392 kilometers I keep running on four wheels away from feelings too strong to settle too scary…
i can feel my heart pounding in my ears it is not fear it is just the weight just that i carry around, three times the average gravitational pull i am quick i am fluent but i am heavy it is a burden shared by my relations (they like to remind me) that someone prettier…
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…
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…
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…
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…
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…
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…
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.
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.
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…
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…
I sleep with the window open To drown all my thoughts in the rain I wait for the freedom of a deep yawn, all of my night moves delayed I wonder what you’re doing in these moments I try to hear you reading this in your voice It’s catastrophic It’s impossible To hope That you…
when you fell into my sky it was purple and orange it was blessed with yellow flowers and honey bees there was no need to command attention when you fell out of my sky it was dark, sheer, and damp with regret i wish i could write about the way your skin was warm velvet…
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…
Read more Bad Apples, National Poetry Month reading at the HVGB Town Hall Pt. 2
