Monday, 8 July 2013


Hello again!  It has been a while since I've posted due to my recent trip to Glastonbury, and consequent recovery time.  First of all, Glasto was the most amazing festival I've ever been to, unbelievable!  But the blues were difficult; my recovery was a week long.  Someone at work made the comment 'you must be getting old' (I'm only 22!!!) but that reminded me of a poem I wrote about ageing and beauty a while ago, so I revisited it and here is a draft of it especially for you, with lots of hippy love all the way from Glastonbury. 


Cut open, each layer another year,
time hides in her rusting flesh cage.
Wrinkles inside, an exposé
of age from imperfect circles.
Timber swells, tower built
towards the sun. Tan breasts flush,
carnation womb blooms
at human touch, avocado
ovaries ripe, alive. Picked
by thieves, no chance to survive.
Fruits rot from the outside in,
an almost corpse cortex seeping blood,
a live wire, roots leaking time, life’s crown.
Hands flail like grass in the wind,
drying russet, catch the lace
edged leaf before it falls down.

© Caitriona Hansen

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