Ruth Truscott

412.

I saw the word there, written plainly and laughed 

For my days of love poems are over before they ever began,

I’ve felt it, well some of it, potentially but never seems to be the ‘it’

That everyone capitalises, so without ‘it’ I’ve felt none of it.  

As a concerned witness, it all seems too tricky 

Too painful to even convince myself to enter into, 

And, yet, answer me this 

Why do poets on poets spend endless ink stained pages,

On these empty phrases, conjuring up ballads and sonnets, 

To fall on deaf, dead ears, eyes longing, heart throbbing, while someone else looks on.

I’ll bring an end to this conundrum, 

Proclaim these rhymes redundant,

I refuse to imagine feelings I’ve never felt , 

Until then, let’s write arbitrations on love,

And all of the above,

This is not a love poem,

Simply some thoughts,

One day I will rewrite these lines, if I have the time,

Until then, I shall be sonnet free, no-one yet has deserved one from me

This poem was written in the middle of a monthly poetry challenge where I had to write about a phrase every day. That particular day, the phrase was ‘love’. And I laughed. At this point love felt like a very foreign concept to me, although I kept reading poetry about it, I wanted to write something that wasn’t on love, as I was so frustrated poetry seemed to be defined by it. So in a sonnet style (a type of poem often used for love, you know that classic Shakespeare ‘summer day’ one) I wrote more of an anti-love poem, knowing that when or if I fell in love the poetry  I’d write about would be real rather than simply ‘imagined feelings’ 


533.

I think if we tried 

Your hand could fit into mine, 

Just,

Let go of her first.

This one is one of the shorter ones I have written. Short poems often are good for writing on post-it notes, which I like to leave in different places - so far there have been ones left in Paris, Bath and London!


565.

I’ll cover my eyes with shadow that’s purple like a bruise. 

I’ll paint my lips red, and pretend, 

For that’s what brave women do. 

I’ll decorate each eye with a thin black line 

Convinced of the lie, sold with each product, 

That all will be fine. 

I’ll conceal what lies below questioning what more can be done. 

But to hide the girls with invented covers, demand they be seen, 

Warrant watching to be excused by desire of the enigmatic portrait, ripe to endure whatever,

‘It’s just what you’ve been made for’.



Poetry itself is a great tool to explore emotions, and more widely figuring out society. I like to use poetry to alongside my feminism, especially as poetry has been stereotypically ‘feminine’ and as a result a ‘weaker’ form of literature, it becomes a great form to explore different topics. In 565 I want to focus in on different aspects of make-up, twisting it as rather than seeing it as a personal art form, but more of mask for people to see what they want to. 


448.

They seem to be divided into morning and evenings 

Categorised by breathing,

Speaking nervous words 

That seem absurd

To think, to exist 

A mere month before, 

We complained of the heat 

The lack of space causing intertwined feet

There seems little to say, be or do,

When the night doesn’t end with that whispered phrase shared by two.


441.

By my house, two steps and a left away, 

Exists a meadow, where flowers seem to only grow in twos. 

Daisies find daffodils while roses rub noses with tulips and lilies alike. 

In the middle of this dance defined by pairs,

Grows determined a dandelion, its tilted yolk-coloured head, 

Standing proud while the other buds intertwine with their matches.

It sits, emits such a bright glow, hiding its own failing hope,

In each breeze let each seed dance free,

None have yet returned, so, she’s remained a party of one, 

Alone amongst a field categorised by twos.


Poetry is, for me, such as helpful outlet especially for mental health, I have written and shared poetry on my Instagram account @RLTPoetry throughout my two degrees, and I noticed how much of a benefit it was, helping sort of my brain a little better. But also, as someone with dyslexia it has also surprisingly helped my academic writing, the flow of the poetry somehow helping figure out the flow of the sentences! Writing poetry is definitely something I thought of as lame when I was younger, a couple of my friends sharing the same thought too, but as I’ve got older, learning more and getting better there are so many benefits that I didn’t know before, have a go (don’t worry about being terrible my first ones are hidden away they’re so bad) and see what you can come up with!


Written by Ruth Truscott

My name is Ruth Truscott, a recent post-graduate from London. I work in museum studies, but have always used poetry as an outlet, whether is a way to explore that embracing crush when you were 15 or to make sense of a tough day. I use poetry to organise my thoughts, express my feelings, becoming a long breath of air. I share my poetry on Instagram (@RLTPoetry), and stick poetry up on post-it notes wherever I go.