Author: Rhiannon Writes

Born in Essex, England now living in beautiful South Wales my relationship with writing has been complicated, suffering from both Dyslexia and Depression has largely lead me to believe I am no good. As I've learnt to channel my feelings and experiences into writing, especially poetry, I have gained in confidence and would like to share a little bit of what I have learnt about myself with the world.

Purple – R.W.

White paneled walls
Of the under pass traffic
Filtered into one lane
For no clear reason
Everything reflecting red
Closed lane, brakes pulled
Everything in red
Bouncing off the plastic touch tunnel
Until the tone turns purple
Then blue
The ambulance comes into view
And the accident is apparent

by Rhiannon Writes

Moving House – R.W.

I’m moved in now
Moved on
Changes of address
Trickle through
Forms and licences
Not beininging myself
To lift them from the piece
Of floor they land on
As they let themselves in
Through the letterbox
In the front door
A hole letting in
The changes
I still couldn’t tell you
If I’m ready to make

by Rhiannon Writes

The House Where The Devil Lives – R.W.

Our eyes make contact
As you glance through the holes in the fence
I see the look in your eye
Before you see me
Who would leave a house like this
To over run like that
Then you catch me
Stood watching
The birds and the bees
As they enjoy the meadow grass garden
I know from the way you look away
You’ve heard it all
Know who lives here
In this house
With the garden returned to the wild
Because I haven’t been seen
Not really witnessed
In these parts
For some years now
Just a rumour
I stopped being scary
Some time ago
As memory fades
The house where the devil lived
Is now a run down cottage
By the water
Fading into fairytale
Over taken by time

by Rhiannon Writes

Siblings in Refuge – R.W.

I can’t tell you you’re not welcome
Because honestly that’s not quite true
I can’t tell you not to come here
Because at the end of the day it’s your home too
We’ve come for different reasons
Seeking refuge at different times in our lives
You always a few years my junior
Are still young
Wild
And free
I’m here to find time out
Space where I cannot be found
Disturbed only by the wind in the trees
Waves on the river
And birds welcoming the new day
Now that’s mirrored with
The slamming of doors
The raising of voices
As you’ve re entered
This house we’ve always known
At the start of a new day
Carrying with you the drink from the night before
Not my quiet respite
Not my retreat
We’ve both run home
Searching for different places

by Rhiannon Writes

Losing Control – R.W.

I’m to not go too hard on myself
Take it easy
There’s so much going on
So much out of my control
Landed with things I didn’t ask for
That I want to much to say no to
Just not yet
Not right now
Take it easy
One thing at a time
Not taking it too far
To have everything all at once

by Rhiannon Writes

From Cookline to Home Kitchen – R.W.

There’s a mood
I can’t quite put into words
It’s the drive home
In the pouring rain
Beating the windows
But they’re still open a crack
To let the cool air in
After my shift
Twice as long as an office day
Hotter than summer
Stuck on the cook line
Of the kitchen
I’m no chef
Not meant to be here
But it comes with the job
Music blaring
Trying to block out the ringing
Of the bar music in my ears
As I carry the tone of the night
Home with me

by Rhiannon Writes

Commuter City – R.W.

Commuter cardiff
Is one of my least favourite things
Too many people
In too many cars
Too close together
No time to breathe
No space to enter
No time to leave
Sunlight ruining
My bleary vision
Driving with glasses
Even on the dullest days
As my eyes struggle to adjust
To the early light of
The driving mundane

by Rhiannon Writes

No turning back – R.W.

Sometimes when I’m driving
Aiming for straight home on the fast road
I loose sight of the telecoms tower
That signals my time to leave
Panic I’ll be stuck
Forced to see out this journey
All the way to the motorway
No turning back

by Rhiannon Writes

My Dad’s Diagnosis – R.W.

Side note , this is why I stopped writing for a few months. The few things I did write may never see the light of day

My dad’s got cancer
I feel like I should be writing about it
Processing
Using the words to sooth the pain
But all I can do is cry

Everyone deals with cancer differently
My only friend who’s had a parent go through the same thing
Reassures me
As my mum says she wants us to keep going as normal

Everyone else is asking questions
So many questions
What stage? How do they know?
Is it treatable?
I don’t have any of these answers
And if i did
I don’t know if I’d share

So many questions
Everytime my phone buzzes
Someone else asking something else
I don’t know
All I want to do is
Cry

The end result is switching my phone off
I’ve  told you
Now leave me alone

by Rhiannon Writes