Rebecca Stansfield Poems

The night time was always hallow, bare,
where I'd bower my head and a doubly fair,
of nothing would be floating through,
the night time sky of grey and blue.
...

How time differs from the rain
How it it is loud but feathered mute
As though a windmill churns your insides
As rain water inside it leaks
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A timid man with a whole hole in his heart,
the birds powering inside of him,
and all that was a praying monster,
sit, sitting peacefully.
...

Black your heart-
your heart is hallow-
a cave for me to fly into-
where I sleep tomorrow.
...

</>Season soon arrives,
this that there place of cold,
running through us like a knife that cuts,
getting the better of us.
...

I am the child,
the woman becoming.
I am the rain,
the shelter I am seeking,
...

The man next door in the car,
not speaking in a way of laughter,
just speaking, to his wife.
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Laughter is something that I see,
the man in-front of me,
laughing, always meaninglessly,
acting what I never want to be.
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Oh I remember when my dreams were still alive,
how daily you'd angel me and save my life,
but now out of the window looking-
thinking about my future-
...