Posts Tagged ‘ Poetry ’

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

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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

Last Place – Poem

Paint the clown into place
Slip the pillow over your face
Don’t let the façade call from grace
Never forget to remember your place
You have never stood a chance in the matriarch race
But it was never because you tripped on a lace
It can’t be your fault that you’re from outer space
Perhaps they all judged you with too much haste
Or you simply travel at a different pace
Are you the one bottle of cider in a Rose wine case?
It is simply that they are not of the same taste?

Perhaps it is they that are in the wrong case
It is them travelling at an incorrect pace
And once upon a time they were judged in haste
Nothing should stop everyone existing in the same space
Without needing their hands tied behind them with a lace
And you can all be Queen of your matriarchal race
Be positioned at the top spot, all in prime of place
As a group, you could all be virtues of grace
So remove the pillow from over your face
Live together in a harmonious place.

© 20th July 2014

Flowers – Poem

Standing tall and proud, it bears the only light,
Illuminating and radiating, warmth and smell abound,
As bright as the sun, as dark as the night,
Two opposing sides, battling to control.
One by one the petals unfurl, revealing an inner beauty,
The pinky white, tinges of deeper crimson,
And suddenly the stamen and stigma revealed,
Their weakness, the inner, fragile weakness.
Slowly time passes as petals fall from their height,
Tumbling to the floor with a pitter patter sound,
Cold is setting in, all the smell worn out,
Now is their time to wilt.
After the dehydration, after all the wrinkles,
After the colours fade from the eye,
The pollen all blows away, staining the heart,
Until the blinding stalks falter, fade and fall.

© 2011