M.K. Lee's Blog: Telling Tales, page 56
October 2, 2020
Someone I Used To Know
You peppered me with a spray of you’re not good enough
And showered me with the bullets of never-ending self-doubt
Until my torso and very being was riddled with them.
If words were wounds,
I’d be a fallen soldier on a dusty battlefield
Or a corpse discarded carelessly in a mass grave,
Merely a victim of your own self doubt
And inability to know how to behave.
But I’d be free.
And no matter what weapon I use,
I can’t dig those words back out.
I’ve tried flushing my body with toxins
I’ve tried scratching...
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October 1, 2020
Chameleons
Chameleons adapt to change,
Function when all remains the same,
Then at a glance can up and leave,
Resilience like you can’t believe.
Do not point fingers, those who judge,
Whilst through the mundane world you trudge
Through every day and same old things,
Defined by objects, claimed by rings.
You are not us. We are not you.
But both exist under skies blue.
© M K Lee
Everyday Love
Nine everyday women living everyday lives, going out into the world and finding love with other women. Because s...
September 30, 2020
The Sea
Crash and crest and crash and crest, and so it goes on. Waves, lapping at the beach and tasting samples of the sand that it needs to feast on. Stripping it away in thick salted licks leaving seaweeds and periwinkles in its place. The Sea takes only what needs to be taken, then replenishing with offerings that cannot replace but can enhance what life is already there. Shards of shells glisten and twinkle in the sunlight as canny-eyed seagulls swoop down to feed on what is left behind. Crash a...
Rain
Every step produced a thick, wet, sucking sound for trying to pull his boot from the mud. The rain crept down the back of his neck beneath his not-waterproof jacket, and every item of clothing, every inch of skin was cold, clammy, and wet.
He’d done this to prove a point to those people, those who put foreigners above their own home. He thought of dryer times, wished for crowds to amass on London, bemoaning what his beautiful country had become.
He’d lost friends, family, saw prices increa...
September 29, 2020
Fair Weather
In Winter he’s still wearing flip flops.
His duffel coat sees him through Spring.
Summer is spent swaddled in raincoat.
While gloves are what Autumn will bring.
To say that he lives out of season
Is like saying each day will end.
But that is no reason to just walk away:
He’s more than a fair weather friend.
© M K Lee
September 28, 2020
The Forest
Bark and branch and trunk and twig and leaf and phloem. Trees are more than these component parts, as are we. Skin and synapse and cell and cilia and membrane and muscle; the sum of us. And we as people become communities, societies, civilisations. Yet we are not trees. We do not flourish if we are not forests. We do not grow taller by blocking out the light of others. We do not suffocate neighbours with our roots. And yet we do. Weeding out what is different, then fighting with ourselves fo...
Feel
“How do you feel?”
Jack checked his limbs, cataloguing their movement as he felt for aches and pains, wincing when he rolled his neck.
“Your knee looks bad,” Garrison added, drawing Jack’s attention to the stinging, pulsing redness of his kneecap.
“Did I hit my head?
“You did.”
“I feel… zombified,” Jack said, clutching tight to Garrison’s fingers as he helped him up, then
gripping tighter still for the headrush that followed. Jack dug his fingers into Garrison’s arms until less diz...
Diary Drabble: Feel
“How do you feel?”
Jack checked his limbs, cataloguing their movement as he felt for aches and pains, wincing when he rolled his neck.
“Your knee looks bad,” Garrison added, drawing Jack’s attention to the stinging, pulsing redness of his kneecap.
“Did I hit my head?
“You did.”
“I feel… zombified,” Jack said, clutching tight to Garrison’s fingers as he helped him up, then
gripping tighter still for the headrush that followed. Jack dug his fingers into Garrison’s arms until less diz...
