Kirsty A. Niven lives in Dundee, Scotland. Her writing has appeared in anthologies such as Landfall, A Prince Tribute and Of Burgers and Barrooms. She has also featured in several journals and magazines, including The Dawntreader, Cicada Magazine, Dundee Writes and Word Fountain. Kirsty’s work can also be found online on sites such as Cultured Vultures, Atrium Poetry and Nine Muses Poetry.”
His smile birthed a sort of unearthly glow,
outshining the moon and the streetlight,
radiating a snake-charming power.
Its illumination transformed everything;
a stone wall into a sky high turret,
an ugly duckling girl into a swan princess,
the trees surrounding them a wall of thorns.
The world paused in a rare moment of hush,
silence hung in the chilled night air
before the moon continued its orbit –
castles crumbling, fairytale feelings fucked.
Reality rushed back in, utterly unwanted.
Her ball gown vanished, her tiara gone;
still hypnotised, words caw from her swollen lips
not knowing that the moment was dead.
A Note From The Difficult One
I am ready if you are, to talk that is.
I am sorry that I fail to communicate,
that my words get lost in translation.
Exaggerations cloud what I mean,
turns of phrase tangled up in feeling.
In the past I have found it simple
to write essays, poems or even stories;
but speaking was never my forte,
reciting so far out of my comfort zone,
a mere regurgitation of the dictionary.
I’ve practiced in front of the mirror,
watching my face twist and contort along
as the words pour from my lips.
I’ve drafted and redrafted all night long,
as the rain trickles down the window.
I am ready if you are, to say what I mean.
The semantics are seeping forth,
a storm brewing, ready to be unleashed.
I promise there will be no argument,
and it will always end in I love you.