A Virtual Anthology
- businessofbooksg6
- May 29, 2020
- 7 min read
Updated: May 30, 2020
Below are the amazing submissions that we have so far received towards our anthology. They are ordered by submission date with our most recent submission at the top. It will be updated as we receive more submissions. We would like to thank everyone who has submitted work so far, and we thank you all for being a part of The Lockdown Creative.
The Expedition
Scar tissue spreads like a map,
Criss-cross lines charting each trip
Each graze
Each calculated cut,
Over pale skin.
I trace every line, jagged and smooth, Great and small,
First with hands marked with damage of their own,
Then with a mouth still hot from the asking.
“How did you get this one? And that one? And these?”
Each question causes the marks to flare,
To shine a red light,
A flame kindled by memory.
Some light up with joy,
Spreading like smiles;
Others blind me with their blazing tragedy.
Yet still I delve into that maze,
Thirsty for the glory of charting
Each inch of damaged tissue.
To be the first and only
to solve their mysteries.
To have them lying bare, soul and body,
Before me.
To know them.
- Thomas Hatton
Little Fires Everywhere
Little fires everywhere,
burn into
my skin.
Little fires everywhere,
yearning to begin.
Don't let the madness change us
just put a stake on
in my heart.
Kindle me like a log burner,
take my friends away
from the start.
You set us alight with
contagion,
an indiscriminate bonfire,
and now so many are dying,
freezing blue -
set my heater alight.
Little fires everywhere
char my every pore.
So sorely in need of
companionship -
but still no barbeque?
- Hannah Vernon
masked vision
Imagine reading the news
Seeing each day the world is getting exponentially worse
Imagine reading the news
Only to learn life as you know it is under a curse
Is this the new reality,
When will I awake this bad dream?
I refuse to believe fake news
I’m confused
I used to close my eyes in attempt to follow my dreams
But I see now they are permanently out of reach
I am forced to live in the present
There is no other choice
I can’t leave my house, I can’t accomplish
I live without a voice, without a say
A constant question of days, weeks, months, a year
The fear inside me now is the only thing growing
How can one live with the knowledge of knowing
Any one of us could be the next to go
So I foolishly take supplements
Tricked to thinking they’ll make me thrive
The truth is, I’ve never felt less alive.
People live by the philosophy of stock buy until you die
Meanwhile some families cry,
Because they can’t afford to bring food to the table.
It is not just the virus that is killing
But our lack of humanity,
And our constant obsession with sanity.
Things may be improving
But so far nothing is fixed
And there will always, always be people out there
trying to
b r e a k
the system.
- Heidi Downing
17/05/2020
Oh what is life for?
If it’s not for laughing,
I know not what else to think. Why
Oh why is life a game?
The highs, lows, like
Mists clouding our judgements. Or
Is it simply to be taken away?
No, it’s not for laughing,
It’s for self progression and loneliness.
~ Self sacrifice
- Aimee Sargeant @aimeesargeant
20/03/2020
So we leave, and
Depart from the sorrowness we left. Oh
What did we do to actually deserve it?
All the older folk sitting twiddling their thumbs, whilst us younger folk sit with thumbs in our twiddle.
Arrogance. That’s all this ever is,
They don’t get there is another tomorrow.
- Aimee Sargeant @aimeesargeant
Flowers starve in the dark.
Soft flesh, supple rolls that curve under clothes
And underwear that dips into hips,
Making them bulge like petals on a flower.
Thighs with dimpled constellations,
branded with tiny lightning bolts.
Woman: a canvas for natural wonders.
Locked inside. Away from nature,
Under the artificial light of piercing
Bulbs, her hips bulge like netted ham.
Gone is the glow of the sun,
To which she once turned her head,
Like a sunflower thirsty for growth.
Now she shrinks from the bulbs,
Turns to the dark to mask her shape.
Trapped in a space not focused on nourishment,
But weight. Surrounded by those who
Long to tear down not the bricks enclosing them,
But the walls of their bodies instead.
Inside, it is easy to forget that food
Does not have to be earned.
Flowers do not earn their sunlight.
Her breakfast of toast sags under the weight
Of thickly spread jam, pools of butter seeping
Beneath. There are eyes upon her plate.
Eyes upon her waist. Her fuel is called a feast.
Horror upon their faces when she dares
To come back for lunch. She eats upstairs
In the dark. No one must look at this garden
Coming into flower. Her leaves start to wither,
The petals of her full bloom fall and rot.
She cannot breathe through the fat fed
To her roots. Cannot see through the fat
Forced in front of her eyes. Her perfect vision,
Switched for a prescription of distorted lenses.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
The sound of feet on a treadmill vibrates
Through the body of the house.
The sound like Jack swinging his axe,
To bring down the life of the beanstalk.
Each footstep chants,
Fat. Fat. Fat.
Her roots rip from the ground as she falls.
- Ellie-Mai Pope
Lockdown Routine
Something for the soul:
Meditate, medicate, mediate.
Let your breath wash away
The loneliness and fear,
And inhale the danger of disease.
Something for the body:
Exercise, prioritise, agonise.
Stay in bed until noon,
Forget to eat, no sleep,
Sneaking in an extra evening walk.
Something for the mind:
Inspiring, aspiring, backfiring.
Pick up a book, you’re stuck -
Your brain’s overflowing,
Clouded over by a lack of sleep.
Something for the heart:
Communicate, validate, acclimate.
Write a downcast poem or two,
Sit by yourself in your room,
Messaging all your faraway friends.
- Georgina Davis
Watching The World Through Windows
‘History is being written right before our eyes’,
You say, but please try to empathise, and understand
That there is no future in history,
And my own future looms before me,
A vast, menacing question mark, waiting for me to embark.
I’m sick of watching the world through windows,
The colours dimmed by the glass.
All I want is to dance in the rain, and grind my skin into grass.
- Georgina Davis
Bearing Fruit
Today, the tree in our garden started bearing fruit. Usually, this marks the start of a glorious period of sticky purple fingers, edging carefully around the stiff, solid centre, gathering plums in smeary Tupperwares - and then, when they are all full, in saucepans, coffee mugs, raspberry punnets, old butter pots, outstretched palms, the smooth scoop of my skirt, anything we have to hand that can reign in this sweet, expanding mass of English summer. Then we will stand back to marvel at our temporary treasure before shipping it out - four tubs delivered to each friend or foe, three to the postman every week, two on the doorstep of the elderly neighbour, one an honorary guest to every dinner party and barbecue. Twenty thousands steps, pacing every street to give out that which we could never hope to finish on our own. Now, the postman tosses our letters over the fence. The streets run dry. I worry what we are going to do with all this ephemeral harvest. Today, I see the tree in our garden start to bear fruit and I stand back, and I wonder what is the point of growth if I suddenly have no one to share it with.
- Ellen Waters @ellen.aurora
Last Night
You lean across acres of stiff white sheets to plant a kiss on my forehead. Your lips, paper-thin and tinged with pink like the horizon edges of your brain, rest on my skin just long enough to show me everything your mouth never had time to form. For a second, you are the only language my tongue can still wrap itself around. Somewhere between our interlocked souls, a sliver of eternity is trapped. Just before you pull away, I feel the swansong of your pulse drumming against colourless cheeks and I know this is the final piece of you I want to remember.
- Ellen Waters @ellen.aurora
Serpentine
I once knew a man to whom speech was an practice of fine-toothed impersonation, a dance of unsung spaces between flickering tongue and the hiss of twisting fingertips. I once knew a man whose words bled from cracked lips, swirled smoke into the ear, crushed bruised head to heel. I knew sharpened eye and painted smile sting but for all his venom, I never once saw him bite; and I wonder if he is yet another who has mistaken poison for protection. and I wonder if he is one of these men who shed their skin and turn to ash when no one is looking.
- Ellen Waters @ellen.aurora
A PAUSE IN THE WORLD
This year seems different somehow
No screams from the neighbourhood kids
No families getting together for a barbecue
No beach days or trips to the park.
Instead, there is silence.
The laughter comes from the living room.
Kids play inside the house,
No families get together.
Yet the bees still buzz around the garden
Flowers bloom ready for spring
The sun still shines upon us
Nature does not know
that we must all stay away.
Stay home. Stay safe.
Instead, the world keeps on turning,
Providing hope,
Of better days to come.
- Cara Scott @loubella_star
UNANSWERED QUESTIONS
When will things change?
When will things get better?
When will we roam the streets again -
And be all together?
Will it be months?
Or will it be years?
Perhaps it'll be weeks -
And we'll all raise a cheer!
When can I see my family?
When can I see my friends?
I hope it isnt too long,
People are going round the bend!
- Cara Scott @loubella_star
DARKNESS
I want to go back
To when the nights didn't seem so dark
When I'd wake up with a smile on my face
Ready to face the world and leave my mark.
Now all of this is gone.
The dark
Wraps me up like a blanket
Keeps me away from thinking
About you.
Light doesn't enter the house anymore.
It dims in the corners though
Reminding us it's still there
But we shut it out.
I feel like a wound
You cut me open until
I bled everywhere
Scars caving themselves around me.
All I saw was darkness when you came
And I'm still trying to shine bright.
Darkness never stays though -
But I suppose nor does the light.
- Cara Scott @loubella_star
LOOKING FOR YOU
Lights glow hesitantly
Outside the window
Is darkness, a seamingless state
Of a darkened world.
Stars shine down
Pitched against the black sheet
Glimmering endlessly
Showing stories from a far off time.
As we stare out the window
Perhaps in wonder or curiously
Looking up at the stars, I hope you're there
Guiding me through these lonely nights.
I'm still trying to find you.
- Cara Scott @loubella_star
Words are invisible until you’re hiding behind a sofa,
Curled tight, nursing wounds sliced by your tongue
To silence mine.
You choke my cries with smiling eyes,
to your besotted public.
Blind them by secrets until the secrets sound true.
Words are invisible, especially words spoken by you.
- Anonymous
To submit a poem for our anthology, or get more information about our project, please email: businessofbooksg6@gmail.com
Credit for these poems all go to their original authors.
We do not own these poems.
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