I have for weeks, months and years…
August 11, 2009
…walked past a cemetery near my flat, fascinated by the graves and much else besides, without ever venturing inside. The mystery and interest though has led me to pen the following ode to aforementioned cemetery:
Cemetery tale:
Where light dances on the dead
around a quiet peace
through which many grieve
and many come to rest
one by one they form a line
as ordered by the graves
who has gone from whom they say
beneath the heaving pine
cry for the buried in their place
low beneath the earth
so loyal where they when they served
but knowing well the price
who knows what if or what will come
or why it has this cost
the tales that were heard the most
have by now been lost.
We all have something to say, right?
July 29, 2009
But will it make a difference?
Nominal tirade:
I’d protest,
Who’d listen?
I’d complain,
To whom though?
I’ve written,
No reply.
I rang them,
No answer.
I queried,
Little chance.
I kicked off,
They noticed.
On your way in to work tomorrow…
July 12, 2009
Take a look around you, and look at their faces. Deep in to their faces…
The train
On the 6:41
no one utters a word
it seems so absurd
they’ll all so glum,
engrossed in their books
they avoid other’s glares
though no one cares
about how they look,
they all look so tired
yet their working like fools
they should down their tools
but then they’ll be fired,
I feel so alone
an outsider in this
taciturn bliss
can’t wait to get home.
Have you ever noticed…
July 8, 2009
Noticed:
Within my gaze are things I’ve never found
upon the ground, often with no sound
across the road are sights that I can touch
there isn’t much, that doesn’t seem as such,
by the water across a sandy shore
what’s been before, what won’t happen any more,
fields of golden brown that’s the bakers’ wheat
under my feet, it feels a hidden treat,
laughter amongst family and closest friends
the wounds it mends, the gloom that it transcends,
by day a path and night a mystery
as what we see and what it means to me.
An offering from beneath the sky.
July 5, 2009
Night song:
We struggle underneath
crushed by disaffection
in the air we breathe;
Sparkling orange light
with a back drop so forceful
it’s giving up the fight;
Yet the morning dawns
relieving grip of night
lighting up the people’s scorn.
Wrote this some time ago.
June 28, 2009
I publish this here in hope that someone reads it and may be moved to comment. Good or bad, I want to know.
Bench:
Lining paths across our commons
looking out to sea,
offering the tired and weary
somewhere to rest and be.
To most a seat of comfort
yet so often more.
Loved ones gone not forgotten
by the sandy shore,
on top of hill tops in the downs
in parks and cemetries,
around town squares, in beer gardens
beneath wheezing trees.
For me a chance to glance surroundings
whilst others share discourse,
sweet nothings shared amongst laughter
before the strained divorce.
… but a bit of me can’t forget what follows next:
Leaves:
May has its calling
when the sun arrives,
slowly warming
forests and fields
that want to thrive.
By now the birds bring
song in woodland long
bereft – colours gone, as
one by one they passed:
green, brown, then yellow
at the last.
They’ll stay to watch the
meadows swarm with
well-wishers,
long shadows mellowing
to cool.
The leaves will yield as
the breeze bellows softly,
calling out the crowds to
take the air, where joy prevails.
Then one day the leaves
will turn our paths to mulch,
drawn in to autumn’s grip;
and so the birds will leave
knowing summer’s passed.
Is it me:
Is it me
or do all eyes deceive,
looks misconstrued
in my world of make believe?
Am I understood
or took another way
leaving those who listen
out of step
in what I say?
Feeling lost within the mass
of all I can’t abide
can I make the path
to somewhere
safe to hide?
When I stop
will others look
at what I used to mean
or will I fall
beneath the gaze
where I won’t be seen?
Love, the greatest mystery of all.
May 25, 2009
And on this theme, I was inspired to write this:
On my mind:
My thoughts turn
to you
night and day
your image burning
so bright
I think of nothing else,
my stomach churning
like a fiery sea
swelled by desire
unable to be calm.
We parted
having embraced,
how I long for this
again,
you are so much
in my eyes.
Yet we are apart.
And both alone.
I wish you could see
with my eyes.
Something seasonal
May 18, 2009
A ditty to toast the coming summer.
Sunshine:
Burning yellow rules our hearts
as blue skies raise our minds
dreams taken in its hands
our lives it can define,
offering a sanctuary
from falls’ austere charms
summer has a warm embrace
as winter’s does disarm,
At once a people smile
forgo a time so tame
enjoy and share ebullience
feeling better then the same,
For knowing it shall not last
our nature knows so true
how little we can live
in the golden hue.
