Kirsty Mclean was born and raised on a farm in Bulawayo Zimbabwe in 1978. She lived in New Zealand for 11 years, but now lives in the UK with her five year old daughter.
Spotlighting Pan-African Poetry
Biography
The Haunted House
After all this, say you’ll take me home,
To hear the ring of a grey telephone;
Put a tape in the player and wind it back
To the very beginning, our favorite track.
Pull me in, with a ghostly arm,
And smile with your spectral ageless charm
Breathe onto the lamps and set them aglow,
Let the paraffin burn, soft and slow
While we dance weightlessly on a parquet floor,
And the teasing stars peek in through the door.
Lay your glass on the end of my old upright,
And I’ll play your favorite tunes all night
Imagine a candlelit room, if you’re able,
It’s you, and I, playing cards at the table
And after the game, retire to a chair,
Pull me in closer and read to me there.
Let the stark daylight rob us of a safe place to be,
The blue dusk will whisper to you and to me,
“Light up the candles! The sun has been doused,”
For the nocturnal dance in the haunted house
Kirsty Mclean
Featured Poem:
The Man
In a place, beyond space and time
I know a man,
From his snowiest peak
To his grit and his sand,
Through his feet planted deep
In the sweetest dark earth,
Where his legs rise like tree trunks
Entwined at his girth
His arms are the waves
Of a strong ocean tide,
And his chest is a mountain
Bursting with pride,
His jaw hard as rock
Keeps emotion away,
While his lips soft as grass
Are where my kisses play
His eyes are the cave pools
Deep underground,
And his breath in the wind
Turns the seasons around,
His hands paint the night,
And a million white stars
Trace his kiss as he leaves
To watch me from Mars
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Biography
Kirsty Mclean
Biography
Kirsty Mclean was born and raised on a farm in Bulawayo Zimbabwe in 1978. She lived in New Zealand for 11 years, but now lives in the UK with her five year old daughter.
The Haunted House
After all this, say you’ll take me home,
To hear the ring of a grey telephone;
Put a tape in the player and wind it back
To the very beginning, our favorite track.
Pull me in, with a ghostly arm,
And smile with your spectral ageless charm
Breathe onto the lamps and set them aglow,
Let the paraffin burn, soft and slow
While we dance weightlessly on a parquet floor,
And the teasing stars peek in through the door.
Lay your glass on the end of my old upright,
And I’ll play your favorite tunes all night
Imagine a candlelit room, if you’re able,
It’s you, and I, playing cards at the table
And after the game, retire to a chair,
Pull me in closer and read to me there.
Let the stark daylight rob us of a safe place to be,
The blue dusk will whisper to you and to me,
“Light up the candles! The sun has been doused,”
For the nocturnal dance in the haunted house
Featured Poem:
The Man
In a place, beyond space and time
I know a man,
From his snowiest peak
To his grit and his sand,
Through his feet planted deep
In the sweetest dark earth,
Where his legs rise like tree trunks
Entwined at his girth
His arms are the waves
Of a strong ocean tide,
And his chest is a mountain
Bursting with pride,
His jaw hard as rock
Keeps emotion away,
While his lips soft as grass
Are where my kisses play
His eyes are the cave pools
Deep underground,
And his breath in the wind
Turns the seasons around,
His hands paint the night,
And a million white stars
Trace his kiss as he leaves
To watch me from Mars
The Haunted House
After all this, say you’ll take me home,
To hear the ring of a grey telephone;
Put a tape in the player and wind it back
To the very beginning, our favorite track.
Pull me in, with a ghostly arm,
And smile with your spectral ageless charm
Breathe onto the lamps and set them aglow,
Let the paraffin burn, soft and slow
While we dance weightlessly on a parquet floor,
And the teasing stars peek in through the door.
Lay your glass on the end of my old upright,
And I’ll play your favorite tunes all night
Imagine a candlelit room, if you’re able,
It’s you, and I, playing cards at the table
And after the game, retire to a chair,
Pull me in closer and read to me there.
Let the stark daylight rob us of a safe place to be,
The blue dusk will whisper to you and to me,
“Light up the candles! The sun has been doused,”
For the nocturnal dance in the haunted house
Nice poems. You have a way with words that makes the poems simple yet meaningful.
Ivan, thank you so much