Taylor Prigg

BY THE SEA

My darling, we were destined to die.

But please my beloved, humour me.

Imagine this, and please do not cry.

Pretend we live down by the sea.

Sounds of crashing waves to wake us,

Some coffee to warm your bones.

This pointless war just might break us,

But by the sea, we sit on thrones.

Time is just a poor man’s illusion.

In our death, we will live forever.

I know, philotatos, you’re only human,

But if we die, we shall die together.

So let us just imagine a liber place

And the gods have gone far away.

Down by the sea, the sun on your face,

Swimming within the ocean spray.

We shall be immortal, and outlast the gods.

Achilles and Patroclus, we’ll defy the odds.

BY THE LAKE

Isn’t it romantic?

how the poets survive?

History remembers

the stars in their eyes.

Isn’t it hopeless

to miss their creation?

Everything has got

a lifeline of causation.

 

Isn’t it incredible

to think of the depth

of the lakes where

the poets sat and slept?

Isn’t it morbid

to wish yourself there

among the weeds with

the dead poets, so rare?

 

I find myself swimming down

to where all the poets drowned.

LOVE THY ENEMY

Drag your knuckles over me,

Kick your heel into my knee.

Mud on my face so I can’t see.

Die on your own, in my debris.

Continue to lie through your teeth.

 

Do you still want this dance?

Willing to live on a stolen chance?

Let this arrive at circumstance.

Where we fall into a trance,

You reject ideals of romance.

 

However, you don’t see your plight.

While we continue to fight,

You’re drawn deeper into my light.

The colour of your face is right.

Neither of us can win tonight.

 

You take a wild swing and miss,

I dodge around your bloodied fist.

Red, black and blue-shaded bliss.

Sharing a breath leads to a kiss.

How could you have missed this?

 

Your bite is lethal, but darling,

Love isn’t evil, and we are starving.

FREE TO BE YOU AND ME

Undress me with your eyes,

Leave the keys behind.

Come pour your whiskey shot.

Let’s take this chance we’ve got.

 

Let’s have just one night,

Hang in this space until daylight.

Pretend we don’t have to hide.

Let me see the soul inside.

 

We can pretend it’s true.

My last night on this earth with you.

I pray the morning won’t arrive,

Because I know I won’t survive.

 

This breakdown of our inhibitions

Will lead to only the worst intentions.

BURNING LEAVES

Strange

how alive

decaying trees

look.

 

Defiant

even in

their final

moments.

 

Phoenix

feathers fall

onto wet

asphalt.

TAYLOR KOSCHEL.jpg

I’M PROTECTING YOU

After a hundred attempts and many lies,

love, I’ll always come back for you.

even if our last burning ember dies,

baby, I think even then you knew.

I still remember that look in your eyes,

darling, they were the coldest blue.

even now, i hear the wind’s broken cries,

honey, it kills me, I promise it’s true.

 

I can’t explain to you the how’s and why’s,

please know you’re on me like a tattoo.

you marked your name, as the ink dried,

I learned there was nothing i could do.

I couldn’t fight off our temporary goodbyes,

Please don’t ruin yourself, split into two.

I know you won’t ever hear these replies.

I’m broke, i can’t pay the devil his due.

 

Just remember, even after a million tries,

I will always find my way back to you.

SPINNING WHEEL

‘Never trust these goblin men,

They promise riches, but listen;

Trust them and your life will fade.

Promise me you’ll stay away.’

 

My mother warned me of their evils,

So I walked by on pins and needles.

But the goblin men called to me,

Cutting deep into my sensibilities.

 

‘Buy our wares!’ They sang so sweet.

A spinning wheel sitting in the street.

It caught my eye; they gave me thread.

‘Pretty lady, please buy!’ They had said.

 

I bought the wheel with mild grace.

Accepted the thread to save face.

Took them home, the needle sparkled.

My fingers itched as I sat on the carpet.

 

The needle pierced my forefinger,

Blood fell as I felt the pain linger.

My mother’s voice in my head echoes,

‘Foolish child, destined for the gallows.’

 

Winter frost coloured my body

as the poison had left me to die.

I’ve become nothing but a story

told to children at their bedside.

MY HEART IS A 
WORN-OUT SUITCASE

My heart is a worn-out suitcase.

I remember when it was new.

Every old scar dresses my face.

 

People put me into my place,

Cover my sides with something blue.

My heart is a worn-out suitcase.

 

Rip out my insides for some space.

Here’s a knife so you can cut through.

Every old scar dresses my face.

 

I know it was my father’s base,

Before he left, unstuck like glue.

My heart is a worn-out suitcase.

 

These bad men left without a trace,

Only my heart left any clue.

Every old scar dresses my face.

 

Sadly, it cannot be replaced.

There’s simply nothing I can do.

My heart is a worn-out suitcase.

Every old scar dresses my face.

PARAMOUR – A SONNET

How does one describe a forbidden love?

Do I dare pick at the wildflowers?

Secret statues hide a white-winged dove,

Reflective pictures, I stare for hours.

 

A Narcissus flower-crown for her hair,

Picture of a face in a golden locket.

So perfect, Aphrodite would despair.

Sewn the moon and stars into her pocket.

 

The universe should thank her for her grace,

From the days of creation to the now.

She can’t see the bright smile on her face.

Surely, she must understand this somehow.

 

The face of this gorgeous girl is just me.

This girl doesn’t always like what she sees.

HYPERSOMIA

I’ll always be a dreamer

Dancing alone in space

I’m not a morning creature

Tequila sun distaste

Diving into the deep

I come alive when I sleep

 

Static paper-thin heart

Technicolour glow on my skin

Drown me in the dark

Into spiderwebs and sin

Bones laid down to rust

While my lungs emit stardust

Taylor Prigg has taken the time to perfect her writing craft from primary school, and even now is studying a Bachelor of Creative Arts focusing on writing with a double degree in English. Taylor was awarded the Goodman’s Poetry Award in 2013 from Bendigo Senior Secondary College. She has 15 pieces published in Bendigo Tafe’s ‘Painted Words 2017” anthology. Taylor is currently working on bringing together a book of her poems and still has the novel she’s been working on for ten years sitting on the back burner. One day, ‘The Last Flame’ will rear its’ head and be known. Just not today.