Archive for the ‘ Poetry ’ Category

Stuck – Poem

Metal bars confine, stapled to enamel with a productive goal
To fix, to beautify… to stifle
Like a hot, April day, no wind, no breeze
Just the sun pounding off the concrete jungle.
In the future perhaps it will all be fixed, it will all be pretty once more
That is not the present, the pain, the silence
A jaw stapled shut, metal flooding the throat. Gasping for water. Gasping for air.
Gasping for life.
Trapped in that metal cage, the concrete walls lonely yet never alone.
Footsteps alone.
Biscuit, biscuit, cake, biscuit.
Footsteps again, stamp it away.
Stamp away the blue, the drowning in nothing and everything at the same time.
Music pouring in the ears, momentary amnesia – I am not responsible. I am not trapped. I am not yours.
Alone. Surrounded. Screaming. Silence.
I’m lost in this concrete metal.
Lost in the crowd of my creation.

21st April 2015.

Three to Four – Poem

I’m coming for you, I hear you baby,
The first sound you’ll ever make,
The wailing screech of air filling those lungs,
And the first sound I ever heard. You.
A solitary salty drop rolls down a chubbied cheek,
Alone yet never apart. Oh, how I miss you already!
Your arms, your smile, your gorgeous little laugh,
Your Mummy.
First class male to your doorstep,
From my arms to yours
From my heart to yours
The way you love me.
At least we are without strangers as we sail so far apart.
I will return to you. Soon, my boy.
I will change the world
But you are always mine.

24/1/2015

His Heart – Poem

A man stands by the side of the road,
A stranger to the home behind.
He’s trying to hide, trying to blend in,
But he’s alone with cars and brick.
Occupied with his phone, he pretends and keeps his eyes down.
He fails.
She sees him and calls: “Daddy!”
His heart breaks at her smile, the joy in her eyes.
Through the pain and uncertainty she still loves him.
He’s encouraged to wave by the woman,
But she’s already there.
At four she can’t be stopped!

Then his eyes settle on the boy,
The boy he would do anything for, give anything for.
Yet the boy doesn’t see him.
His heart breaks.
It shouldn’t be this way. They should be his.
He loves them, he wants them,
All he wants is to protect them,
The boy’s eyes are guided and his chubby face lights up.
Does he know how much he’s loved?
Waving the boy stumbles with distraction and Daddy isn’t there to catch him.
Daddy isn’t allowed to catch him.
Mummy saw to that.
He wants to catch him, to hold him forever.

They pass him and he helplessly watches them pass,
His heart passes by.
This isn’t his fault.
He did nothing wrong.
He simply wants his children more than twice a month.
The car pulls up and in it he climbs, soon passing,
His children, the couple and his heart.
His girl sees him, she’s too clever for her own good.
His boy doesn’t, lost in a toddler’s mind.
His heart has gone for another fourteen sleepless.

© 9th July 2011

What Do We Do? – Poem

What do we do? Usually drink. Usually laugh. Usually play.
I fight against it. Fight for control.
The phone drops, the control clatters to the floor with it
A storm begins and flood defences fail
Sandbags wash away, barriers collapse
The tide comes in, the rain pelts down
Flash of light. One. Two. Growl low within me
As the darkness dawns, floods flow higher.

What do we do? Usually drink. Usually play. Usually laugh.
The storm sets in on my heart and I sink lower
Rain is rising, carpet comforts me, prevents my heart drowning
And then his arms, I grab on for my life
He’s my swimming aid, my rubber ring wrapped ‘round
The thoughts set in as selfish sobs escape
I think of them, yet I fear for me
I mumble and stumble, he cooks and cares
What will I do without you?

What do we do? Usually drink. Usually talk. Always laugh.
Mind is vacant, needed that way
Need to be empty: No thoughts, no feelings, no tears
I walk the streets of youth, eyes filling, near spilling
With each step, I pound the concrete hard
My memories of me. Of us. Of her. Banished.
Repeat the words, they’re all that exist:
What do we do? Usually drink. Usually dance, usually… Bubble.
Keep on and on, nearly there now.
What do we do?
Block everything else, nothing exists.
Only the words.
Usually dance. Usually drink.
Autopilot, these streets are mine.
What do we do?
Keep going. Nearly there.
What do we do?
Few more steps, keys in hand.
Usually – home.
© May 2008. The italics are “taken” from a single titled Wearing my Rolex by Wiley, which was released on 5th May 2008. It is used without Wiley or his record company’s permission, for the purpose of this poem and the original line of the song is: What would we do/Usually drink, usually dance, usually babble. It was the song I was listening to on a journey and the only thing that stopped me completely breaking down, alone in the middle of the street. The babble/bubble thing is just me being unable to hear the words clearly enough, but I like the bubble part!

Petulance – Poem

Many others are allowed to succeed, yet not me,
I am deemed unworthy for the joy of new times,
Revelling in their moments, boasting with earnt glee,
All around here new blood always surrounds me,
Crying in sorrow when others end their bumpy path,
Lacking far more than I, yet no luck for me,
Enough of this unfairness and pain. End it now, please!

Evil people need their punishing, what have I done?
Leaving a part of me behind, losing it over and again,
Chances are changing, percentages slowly dropping,
Always the same feelings of wanting, failing,
Reeling as my heart breaks yet again, blood dripping,
Inside depression fills me as I simply watch,
Money seems so important, but does not buy me this.
(c) 2011

Life’s Vase – Poem

Sun still shining, slowly setting
Not a cloud in the sky, clear blue for the square in front
Long green leaves ending in a point show the gentle breeze
Telephone wires high up and taut, wobble precariously
A car moves past, a bird swims through the clear blue
The world outside continues living
In here, the stench of death.

Next to the box of others’ lives, a pot of other colours
Terracotta orange so hard and cold. How can anything live?
My how pretty, long and thin! Like straw to snap but strong as a trunk
Up them, fuel and eyes travel, journeying to the head, the summit of worth
Divergence the key to life. Variability, the fun
For them difference is visual
For us similarity is a mutation.

The strength supports, bringing life to the beauty, to the variable
Green shoots off, more fuel for their fire
The colours vivid, each one pleasing, each one unique
Fragrant smell, fresh and sweet, fills the surroundings
Each stands tall, petals soft and hydrated
Signs of life start to fade
The ways of death so close.

Each head wilts, closing tight, each smell flies away
New fragiles form, struggling and fighting for a new life
New and old join together until the withering patterns the floor
Clean them away, vacuum it up. Leave it all as memory alone
As the blue fades to black, the lives fade to light
New lives begin as old ones end
The terracotta vase is empty.

© May 2008.

Weathering Stormy Friends – Poem

Fair weather friends pop up, pop down, pop away again,
Taking what they want, leaching a soul away
Giving nothing in return, but a constant knowledge.
There is no falsehood. There is no pretence.

Tornado friends whirl in, swirl out and whirl in again,
Tossing up the fragile ecosystem, destruction left in its wake
Caring nothing for the path it takes, what it leaves.
There is no malice. There is no forethought.
Tornado friends simply breeze in unaware of their strength.

Every weather friends could be here three-six-five, or just now and then,
Acting simply as nature intended – a ray of sun in December
A drop of rain in August. There’s no matter.
It’s life. It’s unpredictable. But there is no leaching,
It’s a normal, day to day being, but there is no destruction.

© 6th November 2014