I met a meta

I write about writing
Blog about blogging
And if I get more confident
I’ll vlog about vlogging

I have poems about poetry
Zines about zines
My reflective journal
Is how my journalling reflects me

Diaries describe
How organising keeps me in line
My typewriter clicks
As I type You’re my type

Sunnet

I’d do anything for a piece of sun
Unable to think straight because I’m cold
My brain is zapping, my brain comes undone

It will not be so bad tonight, I’m told
The noises wake me with a start again
Echoing down the valleys, as foretold

The toilet block visit ends in more pain
Wrapped in a duvet, gravel rips my toes
I lose my sliders, now barefoot in rain

Now searching for my bed, counting the row
Of flapping snappy tents looking for one
To throw myself into, bending down low

I would fight a monster to feel the sun
Even pain of defeat would be more fun

Beachcombing

Eating your dust

Mae’n wyntog

I collected the dead fish body you buried in my sandcastle

With a gingerbread man in a face covering hammock

Hearing sunshine in the distance

Touching on your giddy giggles

Hands in pockets, I did not step on the beach

Mae’n bwrw glaw

Watching from the car park

Dunes between us

Ble mae’r tŷ bach?

I overslept because I could not find the library

Mae’n oer

My tent howled in pain all night

I shook with glee

Trivia afternoons in the caravan

Playing cards held up my exhausted frame

Wyt ti eisiau siocled?

Jolly Easter Eggs

Wobbled down the path ahead of us

Antidepressant discontinuation syndrome

Head/thought abrade

I cracked out of sight