Selected Poems – Helena Louise Rollason

St Peter

Begging, help
me, scratches scratches
all over the place,
birds could live
in my hair, they’ve
made a nest above
my swollen face,
huddle huddle blanket
from a crack addict,
bloody hospital
gown, rip rip tear,
police, picking pickle
from sandwiches, tobacco hands,
ravens in the sky, dark sky,
poisonous cocoa,
that deathly moan,
crying screaming razor,
red cup by my feet, shaking feet,
kick it away, stay stay
on my little chair,
my mind stays too,
mocking me.

The Bat Cave

I am lying on the ground, far below you.
I may have jumped. Or perhaps I fell.
Technicalities mean nothing but, if we must,
Alice positively threw herself down that rabbit hole.

I am drowned in darkness, and I will not be found.
I smile into the obscurity and tears collect in my ears.
The insects begin to explore my corpse,
but they are confronted with disappointment.

Sadness seeps through my skin,
and the bitter taste of my flesh repels the spiders.
Melancholy manifests in my muscle,
and the maggots retreat back to base camp.

The lice taste my despair,
and decide not to devour me.
The scorpions are equally repulsed,
as the ants make nests in my matted hair.

The feeling of inadequacy overwhelms me:
I am not good enough to be eaten.
But I am peaceful, and the choir of bats
slowly pushes me towards resignation.

Conchiglie

Every inch of my body feels heavy,
but how can this be so
when I am hollow?
Cast my entirety in plaster
Suck my existence out through a
tiny piercing at the nape: withdraw my
matter into a giant plastic syringe. Dispose of it.
You are left with my shell
I hope that you enjoy it, an item
holding a certain novelty
value, I suppose.
You can paint it if you’d like!
Paint me as you see me, paint my
plaster cast, but try to do me
justice—don’t be hard on me.
Carry around this cast of me, a model
false to life. Take me with you. It is
easier to carry my mould around than carry
me in your heart.

 
 
 
Helena Louise Rollason is from London and studies English literature and linguistics. After a significant creative drought, she has returned to the arts and has started to publish poetry again. Helena regularly posts poetry, essays and creative writing on her blog: http://themagicblackbook.wordpress.com. She also writes features articles for 'The Founder' and 'The Orbital'. She preaches poetry as a valuable form of therapy and mental health issues form the crux of her writing.
 
 

Categories: Poetry