Featured Poet: Tracey West

Red Clock

It says 0:12 on my red bedside clock, I hear your feet ascend the stairs, Then you click the bathroom lock.

My gaze is afixed on an orange street light, As tonight’s hot tears pierce, Yet another cold night.

“A real man must come at least once every day”, I don’t want to feel the bed shake, And hope you’ve found another way. 

To relieve all your tension on a hot DVD, With some beer and a joint, Then you won’t involve me.

It says 1:23 on my red bedside clock, Your snores are now deep, And your hand stuck to a sock.

That is filled with limp manhood, It’s time to get up, In my haste as I stand My hand hits a tea cup. On the table, you stir, But you’re out for the count, I get dressed in the silence, Then slide my way out Of the bedroom that’s held all my darkest despair, There’s no looking back, no regrets can I wear.

It says 2:34 on a red bedside clock, But I’m in a hotel, Tender arms are now locked, Around my glistening shoulders, Still glowing from the love, Of a man who adores me, We finally woke up, To the fact that life is short, Too short to be sad, Wrapped in a marriage of violence, There’s life to be had.

It says 3:45 on the red bedside clock, The alarm sounds, we rise, And my eyes look in shock, At my new cuts and bruises, They’ll be the last ones, No more oversized glasses, Or heavy foundation,

My new love plants kisses, On my forehead and holds me, I’ve no fear with him, For his tongue never scolds me.

We’ve planned this escape, For what seems like forever, But fear had a tight grip, Around my neck, thought I’d never, Be quite brave enough, But I’ve learned to stand tough, And I’m sure not deluded, It’s gonna be rough.

I’ve snipped all my connections, To the old wounded life, I can’t risk him ever finding, This terrified wife, Who he’s beaten into submission, With his hands and cruel words, As we get in the taxi, I’m seen but not heard.

It says 4:56 on the train station clock, My hands are enclosed by warm fingers, In an effort to stop, all my trembles, He mumbles, “I love you dear girl”, Then we step on the train, Entering our new world.

I’ve the clothes that I stand in, And a few hundred pounds, And the love of a soulmate, Who won’t let me down.

As the train pulls away, And we start our first day, The calm silence is gently broken, “No more tears now”, I say.

Tracey West

I met Tracey at Lyme Regis Folk Weekend last month, and had the delight of being escorted for a midnight swim with her and her lovely husband Simon.

If you like her poetry and want to see more, have a look at her website here: magicoxygen.co.uk/shop

Thank you Tracey! X

Bio

Tracey West is an author, editor, publisher and broadcaster born in 1966 in London's east end.

She has written books on sustainability, humour, love, death & divorce. Her eco-title, The Book of Rubbish Ideas (2008) was a bestseller and is now only available on Kindle.

Tracey does stand up performance poetry, she is also a speaker on women's issues and sustainability, a very proud Patron for the Women's Action Network Dorset and Trustee for the National Association for Children of Alcoholics.

160 Divorce Coping Tips should be available soon and will sit alongside Poetry of Divorce for Women & Diary of Divorce, a companion journal to help you get through it; coincidentally, she writes a free Divorce Coping Tip of the Day, available from the Google Play Store.

She lives by the sea in Dorset with her soulmate, loves organic growing, cooking from fresh and naked swimming

Poetry for Divorce

This poem was taken from Tracey's book 'Poetry for Divorce for Women' which is the first in a series of books on surviving divorce with your sanity and a smile. Through a sharp and comedic pen they outline everything from the uphill struggles, to the absolute adventures faced by many women, until they attempt to create a coherent route through the most emotionally and financially draining times. Tracey's divorce poetry will move you from laughter to tears with truths from several different women's personal experiences of divorce and offers an honest reflection of common journeys showing you you're not alone. Part of the proceeds are being donated to the West Dorset Women's Refuge and another Dorset organisation helping women in crisis.

'Wrinkly Think'

This is Tracey herself doing a reading of another poem of hers 'wrinkly think'. this time its a funny one :)