Poems by Juanita Newnes

Who am I?

a poem by Juanita Newnes

Bent beneath a burden
Struggling to stand tall
The colour of blood
And storm clouds
And snow
Teddy bears and nicotine
That’s me.

Daydreams and angels
Hard cold truth
Each side clashes
With what the other holds good
The reflection in the mirror
Frowns back at me
What then do I see?
Myriad images
That can only be me.

Turning away
From all that I love
To soothe an ego
Too big
For a body so small
Everyone’s dreamgirl
Locked inside
An insecure mess
Called me.

Harmless and kind
In soul and in mind
An ageless body
Seems to be mine
All around me
Love surrounding
A figment
Of God’s imagination
That luckily once
Became me.

Purple clouds and misty air
Dark poetry and coloured hair
Blazing heat
And icy cold
Mule-headed, pig-headed,
Stubborn dolt
A warmth that can envelop
A heart that can melt
A soul never broken
But badly bent.

Who am I? Who am I?
Do I need to know?
When I see it all so clearly
In your eyes.


a poem by Juanita Newnes

Dead pictures are all I see
Oils on canvas
Lifeless yellow petals
Stuck in a morose jar
Placed on a frowning piece of red velvet
And stuffed into a wooden frame
Reeking of turpentine
Too new for a painting
That’s too cold for my heart
A reflection of your soul
Like a galaxy I once glimpsed
And joyously made my own
But soon lost sight of
In the infinity of space.

In the thrill of discovery
I overlooked
The lack of emotion
In your eyes
My happiness always shut out
The things I did not wish to see
Cold hands and cold kisses
Like the cold heart
I tried my best to melt
But remained unthawed
And always will
For eternity

I stop because I fear
That icy fingers clutch
At my once warm heart
Now devoid of feeling
That cannot be.


a poem by Juanita Newnes

A thundering sound
Assaults us in waves
As it descends the hill…
My heart stopped long ago,
Lost in God’s final treachery,
So I hear nothing else
But the wind
And the deafeningly loud sound
As it approaches slowly.
And suddenly, the rain pours.

It’s March in Kodaikanal
And the pine trees are dripping.
The football field is flooded
While I’m on the phone
With someone
Who can never mean anything to me,
And yet does;
Oh so much!
And outside the rain pours…

It’s March in Kodaikanal,
Everything ends soon.
School closes
And everyone goes home.
Love affairs are broken up
And future prospects lined up
For the new term.
Old loves are lost
Because newer ones neckon
And someone is always hurt;
Someone has to cry;
As I will soon do
While the rain pours outside.

It’s March in Kodaikanal…
My tears are like the rain
And so I step outside
Into the cold and the mist
And feel tiny beads
Solidify on my cheeks
And soon they lose
All sensation
Like my hands and feet,
And heart.
I ache inside
Because I now know
The thing I want most
Will never be
And the rain pours down on me…

It’s March in Kodaikanal
And I’ve just been asked
To be somebody’s valentine,
And know I cannot
Although I want to;
Because we’ve been doomed
And life cannot wait
For the two of us.
And ironically,
Neither can age.

It’s March in Kodaikanal
And the only thing
That pours down
Is rain, rain, rain!