Simona Terron

Simona Terron Poems

My freshly washed hair is still damp against my scalp
Bound by a plastic jaw with a squeaky hinge
In a knot that’s so tight it feels my ears are pulled back.
...

A sliver of pain hanging in the midnight ink
Don’t be silly, that’s the moon he says
As his lips nuzzle my ear
Sending zillions of pleasure pulses racing to my synapses
...

The rain comes
And I stand there drenched
Till my bones, outlined in silk
The colour of the sullen sky,
...

I try and rise above the fear-induced fog in my mind
Above the lemon-rind bitterness that loving and leaving
Leaves behind, residual regret resounds off the walls
Of my aching but throbbingly alive consciousness
...

I'm getting used to how it feels
to be a cog in the wheels of efficiency
where friendship is the garb of choice and preferred medium to convey the static noise
of officialese, to cloak politics and veil jibes
...

The world is a small place, life is short,
live in the moment, be a sport…
The only thing that grates more than a pithy homily
Is all-purpose, bumper sticker, catch-phrase advice.
...

I wore my sneakers to class today
Ten little piggies protested loudly
Preferring the grimy freedom
Of straw chappals and roadside sandals
...

8.

grey...
my brain, my life, my mood, the rain
falling softly unlike my pain
that's hammering it's way
...

The stairwell reeks of stale smoke
That curls upwards toward the ceiling
And hangs suspended in the barely moving heat
As controlled air meets warm currents that force
...

Who says I’m counting out the days
And the minutes and the hours since you took your love away
Who says I miss your smile, your warmth, your eyes
And the look of sheer surprise when you realized you loved me
...

Warm and furry,
soft and sharp,
...

Red strawberries, brown sugar, one hour
...

Simona Terron Biography

I write for a living and yet its been a while since I wrote something that was just for myself. I feel awkward putting these private thoughts on the world wide web and yet, deep inside the heart of every poet, isn't there the need to be read? To be understood? To see another nodding their head Saying, 'Yep, that's exactly how I feel and how I'd say it, if I could.' So here goes...)

The Best Poem Of Simona Terron

No, We’re Not Friends Anymore

My freshly washed hair is still damp against my scalp
Bound by a plastic jaw with a squeaky hinge
In a knot that’s so tight it feels my ears are pulled back.

The air conditioning hums innocently, oblivious
To the tiny goose bumps raised along my nutty brown arms
And the hum in my head switches to a dull throb.

So many questions and half finished sentences
Swim frantically searching for a shore to lie panting on
They’re being chased by accusations waiting to attack.

There’s a fair dose of guilt waiting in the wings
Tallying up the who hurt whom, how much and why
To figure when exactly this friendship became a job.

It’s not you, it’s me, and we’ve grown apart slowly
The lines sound hollow, they won’t fit this time
Cowardice suggests walking away as a simple option.

I think why not confront instead, spill out the things
That I’ve left unsaid, clenching teeth, faking smiles
When I’d rather just have shaken her by the shoulders.

All those random words crowd my mind as I hear
My fingernails clicking against the keyboard
And slowly my anger gives way to gumption.

I don’t want to end this connection on a bad note
Let irritation ruin a symphony of good times
Strew this path with a series of emotional boulders.

So I swallow my rage and instead calm my thoughts
With rationalisations about longing and loneliness
And how an emptiness was trying to be filled.

I feel generous even though it weighs on me
And I sigh with regret about my decision
To let this grudge trudge on, instead of it being killed.

(Office, June 17,2006)

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