Elusive Magic by Jacqueline Nash

The SoundCloud and written versions of the poem Elusive Magic.

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Elusive Magic

I thought the magic would always be there, everywhere,
that I would always see the beauty, the enchantment, the charm
in everything,
but the magic seems to have magically vanished
and now, I cannot find it in anything,
no matter how hard my searching.

I study things, everything, but my eyes no longer see,
they look, they see, but do not perceive what they used to see,
there’s nothing,
the magic has made itself elusive, now camouflaged,
cloaked in a veil of unwelcome reality,
now hidden from my visibility.

I need to recapture that magic, bring it back into view,
to see what I used to, to lift the veil from my mind, from my eyes,
to see something,
anything other than blatant reality and the ordinary,
so, I will leave myself open, let the veil go,
and
with clearer vision, hope the magic will show.

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Echo by Jacqueline Nash

This is another attempt on SoundCloud of me narrating my poem Echo with a little bit of reverb. Again, it does come through quite loud so you might need to turn the sound down and the written version is below if preferred.

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Echo

There is no sound.

Silence envelopes me
inside my darkened room,
but the echo in the space
inside my head
bounces from side to side
within my skull.

The same words
repeat over and over,
becoming louder and louder,
like a rhythmic chant,
a sacred psalm,
a prayer I can never share.

Words that beg
to be spoken out loud
but have to be contained,
they must never escape
my lips,
for should they be heard,
nothing would ever
be the same again.

A secret I must not tell,
a secret that has taken over my mind,
reverberating in it’s echo chamber
threatening to drive me
to the verge of insanity.

This is how it must be;
this is the price I must pay.

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Winter’s End by Jacqueline Nash

I am now on SoundCloud and this is my first attempt at narrating one of my own poems. This is slightly outside my comfort zone but I was determined to give it a go. It does seem to come through quite loud so you might need to turn the sound down a little. I hope it’s not too cringe making. The written version is below if you prefer.

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Winter’s End

Winter has come
and I am still alive,
but what was left of my bloom
has faded,
and I struggle
within my insignificance.

The future hides it’s face from
my sight
and the now is such an empty
place to be,
so all I am left with
are my memories of yesterday.

I had not thought
the cold would come so soon,
to take me in it’s grip
and squeeze the life from me.

I had expected so much more
than this.

So much more than this.

The wheel has turned;
my life hanging
between the spokes
as it moves swiftly towards
Winter’s end.

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Update – Jacqueline C Nash Poetry

You may have noticed that I have changed the background and removed most of my photos and artwork from Jacqueline C. Nash Poetry. I believe that images can add interest and enhancement to the poems, but the problem is that I have been spending far too much time searching for them when I could be spending that time writing, which is what I prefer to do.

I got to the point where I believed that my poems wouldn’t be read if there was no image and in the end the image became almost more important than the poem itself. I therefore decided that if I happen to have an image of my own that fits the poem I shall use it, otherwise it shall remain imageless.

I am also newly subscribed to SoundCloud where I have so far just recorded a couple of my poems. I must say that this was truly outside of my comfort zone but thought I’d give it a go anyway. I must admit that in the end I actually had fun and quite enjoyed the experience. I will be adding these recordings into the posts with the written poem.

I hope you will continue to enjoy reading and listening to my poetry.

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Goosebumps by Jacqueline Nash


Goosebumps

Dark room.

Cold morning light begins to peep
furtively through the bedroom curtains,
waking hiding shadows,
forcing them into existence.

Slowly, I rouse from a disturbed sleep,
bad dreams already beginning to fade
from memory.

I sense your body close to mine,
your warmth, soft and comforting,
reassuring.

I feel your hand gently stroke my thigh;
goosebumps.
Drowsily, I turn to face you,
to embrace you.

Not fully awake I force my eyes open,
then, realisation,
loneliness stabs at my heart
as I try desperately
not to fall into
the empty space next to me.

Sympathetic shadows
offer their company.

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Fired Clay by Jacqueline Nash

Fired Clay

My head thrown on to the potters wheel,
pressed, squeezed and pulled.
We are malleable,
our minds easily manipulated.
Our pasts sculpture us;
events beyond our control
change us in subtle ways,
mould us into who we become.

My heart thrown on to the potters wheel,
pressed, squeezed and pulled.
We are fragile,
our hearts can easily be broken.
Life’s journey can fire us
with passions of love and hate,
we are clay,
and like fired clay,
we can become damaged goods.

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Power Cut by Jacqueline Nash

Power Cut

Her magnetism pulls at them,
her attraction so powerful,
the force so strong
they cannot resist,
they are helpless,
for she is electric.

So charged, sparks flying,
they fail to notice
as she insidiously
seeks an open wound,
where she can claw her way in,
crawl under their skin,
and switch them on
as they gaze mesmerised
in to her hypnotic eyes,
whilst hanging onto
her every word.

Skilfully, she wraps them
around her little finger
with coiled wire
and plays them one by one
within her magnetic field,
teasing them with her
seductive charms,
with no intention of
fulfilling their desires.

She continues to string
them along, electrons moving
rhythmically within their atoms
as they happily dance
like marionettes
to her every whim.

They are stupefied, tantalised,
by her flawless beauty,
her hour glass figure;
so blind, they do not detect
her lodestone heart
or the iced blood that fills
the circuit of her veins
until it is too late.

Then, when she decides
she’s had her fun,
she coldly disconnects.

They blow a fuse.

Power cut.

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