A blog by Nikki Dudley about the gaps in everyday life...


Thursday, 10 November 2011

I'm back and poetic...

Hi everyone,

I apologise for my terrible absence from my blog. I have been adjusting to life in a new city - Madrid - and attempting to be a teacher! It is going very well - I make less mistakes, I know a few Spanish words and the city is brilliant!

Me and a lovely view in Madrid!

I have also finally begun to write again so here are a few recent poems, some my usual style and one a little more traditional in style perhaps. I hope you enjoy them!


Ayuda – if I calling you, please

me / answer someone

Take notes: I is trying
grows into? A people a persons
no childs, no more.

For example, in my case I carry
tols, no, tools
of land gu age – (quicker) – language
like sandwich.

Can you under-stand me?
Can you over-stand me?

Poe-hams are losing, poe hams are lost in….
I going to be learning about
this, there there, can you love

me is difficult, I nose it. Don’t need
to speak me, no, I look it with
own –

Fuck, lost in a word. How you
say lost
in a word?

Finding me is


I’ll keep these pieces of you
just in case you can’t make
it back. I’ll scatter them
around the house like leaves that no one
picks up. They are pages of a book nowhere definite.
They will just float around and seem
to disappear

At night, I’ll give life to your laugh, flesh
to your soft hands. I promise. When
everyone else has put you to rest, you will
linger in my life like the jarring
smell of cut grass, not always obvious but when I stop,
I’ll feel you there.

I won’t let anyone take these pieces, no matter
what happened between us. I’ll fly you
at half-mast. I’ll put a photo on the pin board that
won’t ever be replaced. As long as
I remember my own name and yours, I promise.

All the stories and the half-truths in those last days or weeks
won’t be lost – I’ll pick through those threads
and make something for you.
Wherever you’re going, you won’t ask
me to take you home again.
You won’t ask me to take you home.

See you in the walls. See you by the toaster when
I’m still foggy with sleep.
See you, even though you lost
the pieces that make you somewhere
behind those eyes.

Somewhere is Iris.

3. (to be published in the forthcoming issue of 'streetcake')

The whirled is dan generous
- I could make a home but
home won’t forgive.

Don’t wannah loose threads, don’t need
to re-invert – still
think about chile hood in the hood is
where I love.

Missing sum – think! Equations
are more easy, more easy
than pies and mash.

I root my words in cool her, can you
still see
me, por favor.

The streets. Streaks of light darkness,
bow tea full sky.

Don’t you
Don’t it
Forget the about


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