The Suitcase

By Charlotte Avery

Charlotte Avery’s first publication of poetry tells the story, through its beautiful poems, of a young woman breaking through expectations, finding negative experiences, and transforming the bloody knife of bullying into an incredible sunset. The Suitcase not only offers new ideas, but also brings old things like famous personalit

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rowanvale Books Ltd
• Release date: Mar 31, 2019
• ISBN: 9781912655113

Charlotte Avery

Charlotte Avery is a sixteen-year-old poet. She lives in Wisconsin with her family and her terriers. In her spare time, she likes to read, play the piano, write stories, watch period dramas, and learn about Revolutionary France. Her favourite poems are "Annabel Lee" and "The Ballad of Reading Gaol", and The Suitcase is her first publication.

Book preview

Les Personnages

Aidez-moi, ma Chère Amie!

A woman spies,

30 Rue des Cordeliers,

her eyes awaiting,

her ears listening

for a welcome,

awaiting.

It arrives.

The door creaks;

regrets left behind

in a hamlet in Normandy.

She steps lightly,

feels the blade against her skin,

nearly crumples the paper in her hand.

Running water,

sighs of relief,

names in the air between them,

an angry promise of death.

Blood turns hot water crimson,

cries for help.

She looks up to the eyes of another—

faces of youth.

Which is evil and which is moral?

She turns away,

away from the day (that fateful day)

at 30 Rue des Cordeliers.

Jean-Jacques

Jean-Jacques sits

on a pile of stones,

weeping for humans,

weeping alone.

He stares out the window

through meaningless glass,

looks over the ocean,

and watches time pass.

He cares for our children

on his cliff by the sea

and laughs at our follies,

smiles at humanity.

But if he could stay,

just for a moment today—

my, oh my, what would Jean-Jacques say?

Green Coat

The man in the green coat,

stands alone on the street,

blood running in the gutters,

blood running at his feet.

His eyes are bright and focused,

and large his smile be,

’til all is gone and people forget;

he’s lost in his coat’s blue sea.

Sometimes only I can see him,

winking at me on the rue,

assuring me softly and telling me slow,

whatever it is I should do.

And people flow right past him,

not looking as they cross virtue’s