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Helen Seymour

Helen Seymour is an artist and musician living in Liverpool. She plays bass and guitar, singing and writing with a band called Sonnenberg. 

 


Poster girl

Impossible beauty draws me in,
Floorless perfection attracts, and
Holds a stare of wonder, longing.
Eyes bolted to an image of
Hyper sensuality.
Up close and personal, the look
Is returned with a quiet confidence.


Skin softens and shines like silk,
Mouth a flower bloom.
Sleek waves of perfect hair,
Blood black intensity,
Panther deep.

Fascinating beyond reason, she holds
Your look long enough to reveal silver
Plasma screen.


The aspirational beauty,
Shows the aspirational life style.
“Reassuringly expensive”


The cheep trick throws-up
Multiplicity’s of:
Desire, envy, contempt, derision, inadequacies
And finally complete lack of interest.


But look again, and nature reveals herself
And will not be denied.
A thing of beauty is a joy to the world.


Spider 

Spider, shake yourself, make yourself,
Fine tune skills
And bring to perfection
The art of you weave.
Spin a yarn.

Pull a silver thread
From heart to heart,
Tug all ears and eyes
To you.
Spin a yarn,
Fascinate in till all sway in time.
Set in motion,
Your future,
Your devotion,
To life


Sun Set

Sun up, sun down ......
A hot day in July ends.
Banks of billowing clouds catch on fire,
Glowing like coal embers.
A huge apocalyptic sky of red lights,
Envelops everything

Sun up, sun down ......
Sun sinks below the horizon,
Its fire put out.
Now these very same clouds assume
The customary grey of an evenings approach.
Is this then how love is?
A moment when unimaginable colour and drama
Illuminates what is ordinarily mundane.
And when it fades all is quickly forgotten.
The elusive warmth and light, gone.


 

 


Crow

A murder of crows, wait.
Heads and beaks in to the wind,
Black smudges on a green cloth.


Groups take turns and fly
Over the ground, like eddies or
Swirling currents.


As a bodied, like a team
Searching for a missing item,
They pick over grass.
Spreading out the search
Continues.


Jagged sharp shapes,
Cut out a void.
Light and colour are
Dismissed, beyond black,
A window into darkness.

 

 

 

 

 


copyright © Helen Seymour