Poetry by Carla Halpin

          Mayastar CC



Water Under the Bridge 
 
Don't let me see how your bones have mended 
or let me count new freckles 
or let me see how the wrinkles have eroded your furrowed brow
Don't tell me the details of your meanderings
for disappointment and betrayal bubble near 
But somehow  
know that I can hear you here
So, when the thunderous rapids drag you down
and leave you stranded. 
I will care that you are grounded
You're a crisis, but I never flinched
Now I stand on my side of the bridge
You're a whirlpool that coils in and pulls down
you foam and hiss and spit
Sometimes, meet me here 
And I will listen
I will listen


 

Poem for the Makeup YouTuber
 
Morning ablution
Abrasives and creams
At least an hour
Basic girl routine
 
*Applies moisturizer in circular motions*
Let your fingers now spread into your hair
Find tense areas and hang out there
 
*Segments face into shadows and highlights*
Hey contour queen! I see your big blush brush
Look away now, see it also feels luxurious
 
*Selects the perfect plum shade to match mood*
Morning lipstick applied expert briskly
Try closing your eyes, see how the oils glide on slickly
 
Remember,
Perfect Insta pouts
Look better when your eyes register
What you’re smiling about
 
 
 
 
Time is the Most Used Noun
 
He swings his wasted legs out of bed and makes a precarious dash for his chair
It’s really isn’t like Dad to spend so much time there
Through the medication fog he grins at the news
laughing at silly humans and their self-important views
 
He cuts a fuller figure now
a little grey but broad shouldered, posture straighter
We stride the streets together 
putting the world to rights 
and judging all the neighbours
Walking serves to brainstorm his complex dealings
we play the parts we always do 
swapping stories of his business
and my feelings 
 
Its Christmas time, 
Dad’s in charge of carving the turkey
Mums bought him a bell for gin
he’s ringing it all the time 
and laughing so hard at the ridiculous gift that he’s set off mine
As he wipes the tears from his face
eye rolls from mum start off another round,
we lower to the ground uncontrollably 
making spluttering sounds
 
The hall is emptying out of revellers 
as my hero arrives
I’m a bit old for this now,
calling for a chaperone so late at night
But heartbreak hurts 
no matter your age
He says it’s going to be alright
 
I’m talking to him at the bar
eighteen and full of it
but I can tell he’s not quite listening 
Behind him a secret is being spilled 
his ears are pricked
his eyes glinting 
 
I can’t believe my Dad is watching!
A tiny figure in the stalls
Whilst I trundle up and down 
doing lengths of crawl
We dropped him at the station yesterday to join the other men in suits
He’s obviously more important
than I ever knew
 
It’s really scary when you’re little 
and you want to get on a massive horse 
Luckily my dad’s invincible
and he’ll run alongside me 
of course
 
Sometimes daddy does the stories
instead of mummy
He does the voices differently
I think he’s very funny
I like it when he’s in the house
everyone feels stronger
He helps out mummy with her chores
and scares away the monsters

​

Carla is an ex-pirate, long time secret poet and fledgling writer. Previously a community nurse in Brighton UK, she now lectures on health in further education. Her hunger for curious human stories has driven her into all sorts of situations that she's daring herself to write about.

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