Claire Sanders

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Best Poem of Claire Sanders

Ode To My Lost Childhood

There were days, I recall, where I wished myself away,

Sat upon the stairs, aware of the shouts,

Go to bury my head under my pillow,

The rowing is about me, no doubts,

I would think of sweet things, cuddle my doll,

Yet still the tears would sting me,

As down my cheeks they roll,

The shouting was down to me, my fault,

As I wasn't really wanted, that's how it felt.

 

There were days that my whole body ached out of pity,

Whispers heard from behind part closed door,

There was no-one I could to talk to ...

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'Lichen' Me Or Not

Textured like diamonds, emeralds and onyx embedded into rugged slate,

Alive, steadily but invisibly growing at immeasurable rate,

Appearing so un-earthly, fossil-like, to some ere dead,

In rough, smooth, creative, bubbling florets and breathing cells,

Fungal, sporacious creeping in a way so totally inanimate,