a feeling in the air almost like held breath
if you keep still and silent
you can almost hear something coming
not music
not voices
but a silent tension that heralds
and i feel if i wait long enough
something exciting is going to happen
to me
any second now
if i can just keep still and quiet enough...
although what i expect to happen at my age
i don't know
it happens at the begining of every summer
and I feel a girl again
full of breathless inexplicable excitment
where you know anything can happen
and will...
what I'm trying to,
perhaps others know what I mean
anyway despite the poem
not being particulary good,
do you ever get that feeling?
at the begining of summer
where you feel a teenager again
almost holding your breath
waiting for something magic
you know will arrive
if you can just keep still
and be open
with a dash of
grapefruit
flowing
thro my veins
like butterflies
under my kiss
that show in the eyes
a childhood spent
we can lay things bare
pretend not to care (too much)
we can reminise
leave out main events
give the o'er a kiss
yet get behind pretence
and of course there's Twinnings tea
wherever you go
the heartache that comes from loss of dreams
from pain inflicted by lovers true
tailor made to exactly fit you
fading away
soon there'll be nothing left
but my frown
like the cheshire cat's smile
turned upside down
flying kites
and throwing sticks
sailing model boats
on rivers and ponds
or just lying on the grass
taking the sun
reading books
while lovers touch and kiss
I always feel
the invisible screen
between these ordinary things of life
and myself
slightly blurred
my daughter
bound for slaughter
of the self inflicted kind
she bows down low
too low too slow
and buys herself
no quarter
I must admit
tho I've enjoyed
our close
it's also burnt
the honesty
has been a
toxic dose
we've laid bare souls
got it all out
this close is not
as put about
attempts are made
to obliterate
what has been written before
and inscribe something
completely new
but the ur-writing
always shows through
and there we read
two inerasable
though contradictory truths
economic imperative
and the hearts affections
1: writing material (as a parchment or tablet)
used one or more times
after earlier writing has been erased.
2: something having usually diverse layers
or aspects apparent beneath the surface.
The shape of the number resembles some of the letters
used in arabic and ancient languages
that are not found in english
I we did them have
better all the still
we sleep
palimpsest
so this love
and dewy grass
is still chiffoned
with mist
till spring sun
weak and warm
goes to work
a stranger place
than you or I
can imagine
we must each
cultivate
our own garden
see him preen
the nicest
he has ever been
but look too close
and you will see
underneath
the real he
looking for what brings me here
to this place at this hour
the church clock strikes midnight
bringing me out of my reverie
the last note sounds out across the green
rolling out beyond the sleeping cottages and farms
past the nearby meadows
over the silent flowing stream
finally fading to nothingness
in neighbouring valleys
outside I look up
brilliant stars shine down
on the dark unheeding village
I move on looking for what brings me here
to this place at this hour...
fraud I've ever met
though I don't doubt
your not done yet
all those years
you lied to me
taking advantage
I couldn't see
the lies you told
the games you played
if you'd come clean
would I have stayed
duplicitys extent
now clear
mocking everything
held dear
you go on now
with more fake lives
behind your smile
conceal the knives
why do I cry
I should be glad
now all is clear
I just feel bad
are here
whorl wind world
words will
around your wrists
once ruby drops against white skin
gift to yourself
testimony to a fragile beauty
they fade
on frozen pond
coming face to face
with water beetle
under the ice
bubbles stream
;o)
our universe gives birth
my universe gives birth
i give birth to my universe....
this poem
nothing
of it
no agitation
or dissipation
nothing of
passion
what is this poem
nothing of
anything?
we cycle in
and cycle out
push and pull
against each other
spiral up
and spiral down
pull towards
repel against
contained by love
that barbed wire fence
i have a daughter also....
love is a burden as well as wings
we cycle in
and cycle out
push and pull
against each other
spiral up
and spiral down
pull towards
repel against
contained by love
that barbed wire fence
one unlucky doe
her eyes full of tears
spill over
and show
my family takes quite some assembling...
so fractured are we
but at Christmas
we manage something
:o)
you are beautiful...
dead
broken
abandoned
something
in your screams
my heart beats
quests
for ourselves
to give our existance
meaning
the only result
is
to make ourselves
as fallacious
as the invention
I feel my old spirit
still rattling around
deep inside
but as a ghost
haunting my ruin
it ain't kind is it the encroachment of old age...;o)
First it creeps and then it leaps...:o/ Lol
With the title, I wanted to give a dual meaning to it
as in getting old past it
and getting past the fact I'm getting old...
I feel my old spirit
still rattling around
deep inside
but as a ghost
haunting my ruin
a vibration
of the air
however bitter
they leave
no trace
sweet or bitter,
are naked eye visible,
they are felt
by our innermost self!
a vibration
of the air
however bitter
they leave
no trace
she is just luminous
with ready smile
and laugh
no one knows
that underneath
she is dying
on the inside
black as coal
is her soul
my dear
my love
my daughter
always was
destined for slaughter
it's not necessarily a sealed fate :o)
she does have an iron core
she just needs to learn to use that for self preservation
without becoming totally jaded...;o)
I do try to steer her thro the rocks
while encouraging her to keep her individuality,
She is slowly learning to be more self protective
and as she gets older seems to be
gaining some personal strength and self insight
she is very special,
unfortunately an aspect of that
is others do want to drain that dry
or in unwise choise of friends (which has happened in the past)
they knock down or try to, because she will always be that
(ed. carry the beauty and innocence )
and try to share it
and ancient beams
icy draughts
damp wall seams
smokey fireplace
crooked floors
gaping holes
instead of doors
run down sheds
home for cats
ambiance
fit for rats
dotted around the countryside here in Taz,
some on still farmed land
turned into hay storage space,
Tiny hand built and crude
they are amazing testimony
to how hard it was for early settlers here
as some are in remote cold places
that would have been extremely difficult
to farm and live in
fills her mouth
a paralizing numbness
courses through her veins
as if
she's bitten
a suicide ampoule
takes you all the way
and beyond
for
no matter what others tell you
of hope
urge you to strength
you are already over the threshold
into the grey land of loss
of grief
of living death
feelings on being dragged back
from that land
joy
gratitude
happiness painful in intensity
compounded by bewilderment
resentment
at being returned to that state
where crossing that threshold
still remains
a possibility
(a red haired girl) who died within minutes of being born (spina bifida)
it took her a very long time to “come back”
from an almost zombied state
crosses the road
wearing enough
vibrant
red
lipstick
to stop traffic
she knows
sex
has no timetable
many a man
has an appetite
for more than a sandwich
at lunchtime
but when a poem comes
it arrives of it's own accord often Lol
written after watching a news segment
about Kings Cross
a red light district in Sydney Australia
The title was inspired,
hoping to give meaning of stop the traffic
and also the district she was patrolling...;o)
lights a respondent glow
in all things young
but she is not so kind
to the old
where man has been
exuberant nature is evidenced
in decline and decay
riotous hedgerows
unpruned trees
lank lawns
while nature prepares
to don Easter finery
the best you'll get from man
is shabby genteel
last week
onto
concrete
cracked ribs i think
either way
sore
oh how i
swore
all this excruciating
humiliating
soul laid bare stuff
is leading us to a more honest place
otherwise....
all this excruciating
humiliating
soul laid bare stuff
is leading us to a more honest place
otherwise....
do i dare
shock pervades
i stare
overnight
too spare
there you are
why didn't i see you
bright star
i knew
by love
as you
what the Hell
are we going to do
you tell me you'll stop writing to her
although we both know
you will still read her blog
every day
waiting....
it won't change anything
it will only hide your interest from me
and what's the point in that
she's still there
and so are you
i no longer pretend
i won't let you pay any bills
isn't that the warped perspective...
i
who always said i wasn't your whore
the sea is rough
a pair seagulls hurtle by
a mere foot above the waves
I try to imagine what it's like
to be them
moving through the air at that speed
looking down
wild ocean frothing foaming
surging below me
so close
that when a wave breaks
it reaches up to pull me under
feeling the cold spray splattering my chest
inhale
a deep breath
not sure
which words
it will carry out
I'm going mad
this craving a drink is
beyond bad
up and down
and down and up
it runneth over
my despair filled cup
I don't want to think
or feel or see
this ugly mood
does that to me
all out of hope
and love seems
too hard
and writing poems
well I'm no bard
why can't I want more
of what I've got
there are plenty of others
without a lot
down and up
and up and down
writing this I feel
a clown
and you are dead
and this is not
inside my head
we trod the boards
took the applause
now it is time
to close the doors
bow out stage left
decline encore
give breath
to life
not any more
you knock on the door
i open it
you come inside
i close the door
we turn to each other
glide into each others arms
faces buried in each others necks
we smell
inhaling deeply
brains click into gear
a process started
i want you with ALL my being
you want me too tho fight it
we undress
no words spoken
clasping each other we couple
urgent
over
fast
we cling
inhale each other deeply
again
slowly
we come to
start to part
feelings change
each feel ashamed
of this red hot raw
cool settles in
creates a din
in our brains
we separate
feelings abate
procreation...
beaches, deserts,
this life
that one....
just blew past my window
wouldn't you think
the weather would know
It's spring.....?
:o( Lol I quite like snow as it doesn't occur much in my area and we lived more in Africa/Australia than in Britain so it's a novelty
I love the variations in each turn of the seasons, sometimes clear cut sometimes blurred
the sun on my skin
so tired of this grey
I'm trapped within
no sunshine shadows
no blue in the sky
rain lashes the windows
I want to cry
it's no wonder to me it's worshipped ;o)
the diffeance
between love
and gratitude
can somebody please tell me
cos I'm feeling quite confused
both of them make you happy
one of them sometimes sad
both of them fill your heart up
tho one can feel quite bad
I think I've found the differance
no need for your advice
love can make you miserable
but gratitude feels nice
gratitude owed can feel as bad as love
yeah it can feel like a debt too heavy and stifling
the word love is flung about thoughtlessly and it can be very self serving/possessive and I wonder how much of love is love of self because we project so much onto the love object desiring to see them as we want to
to someone else
while saying
you'll keep it
in the ordinary
how extraordinary
in the ordinary
how extraordinary
hello poetry replies
but might have but for a differant choise...
Winter doldrums setting in early perhaps...
I often have dry spells where nothing comes,
just sit it out and hope it doesn't last
each time is what i do
sky fluorescent grey
horizan cutout,crisp,sharp
pop colours autumn
view the savouring, stop i
unmoved,past hurry people
Hatred is a cancer and it does destroy,
I've been in it's grip
and wouldn't want to be there again
it almost destroyed me
I imagine being totally sane
must make for perhaps quite a boring person/existance?
Not being that myself
I can only imagine Lol
Insanity and creativity do go together
science has proven....;o) Lol
You don't need to be fixed
you are beautiful...
dead
broken
abandoned
something
in your screams
my heart beats
It's amazing how much a sunny smile flashed in your direction can bring out the sun :o)
Hmm...I'm afraid I must put my hand up for this one too :o/ Lol
That word curmudgeon I love
it's such a strange sounding/looking word written down,
an apt description of a few
I know myself it fits what your saying perfectly ;o)
"we don't want you making a living
doing what you love doing.
the rest of us endure misery for money
every fucking day of our lives"
I got that attitude so much at my last 2 jobs
it's incredibly awful how unhappy souls try to spread their misery
and if they fail to will go to great lengths to destroy your confidence
any other way they can..
Good poem Ryan...:o)
We try to hang on to what we want
and what makes us happy or feel validated
a difficult thing to not do or stress about Lol
What happens when we step out
of our mental bounderies? :o)
Starry skies out in the country
are absolutely amazing, They blaze...
often feel I could fall upwards into the sky
when looking up at night
What I love about sojourns in my garden
on a beach or a bushwalk
is that for awhile "I" become lost
and am at one
Personally I'd rather a dirge
than a happy song,
More of reality in it ;o) Lol
It's so ironic
that we don't usually
get a grip on reality
until we're over half way
to death...Lol
Lol This immediately reminded me of one of my daughters
she woots too when excited ;o)
that strike a chord
woot for activity
that saves from bored
woot for seasons
changing face
and woot for
poets full of grace...;o) Lol
of Twinnings English breakfast tea
and sit in my garden
if it's not icey cold,
even then in a coat sometimes,
watch the blackbirds, wrens and rabbits....
Couldn't think of a better way
to gradually transition
from dream state
to wide awake Lol
I love going barefoot feeling the differant textures under my feet, when we lived in hot climes as a child I used to do it all the time, got labelled an arab by english kids when we were posted back cos I'd take them off at school Lol
"The trees fade from green to black" I love watching that in the evening here, I have some lovely tree lined horizans over my fences I watch go through that change some evenings, brings tranquility,
Nice one :o)
I like the surprise ending, I was thinking oh no don't hurt the spider.....:o( Lol
I get lots of spiders in my not so sealed tight wooden cottage over winter
managed to catch an epic battle between two in a couple of pics
a large dark brown garden spider caught in the web of a smaller semi transparent daddy long legs
was quite a watch, garden spider walked free eventually he was too big...Lol
"A predator knows another predator when he sees him" good line, good poem :o)
We all box ourselves in, Live comparmentalized lives, within and without ourselves
It often surprises me still where mistakes take us, often to somewhere in life or conclusions or a piece of art/writing that otherwise we'd never have gone/done, The brain acting on our behalf involuntarily? :o)
I love the descriptiveness of this poem, since it mirrors how I live/have lived Lol
It made me think of a wood stove which I have and frequently dress in front of
and the shack we used to live in when my kids were young
"White flakes clinging to the cuff of the gabardine" is so evokative to me, I once planted a very old apple tree while it was snowing, dug up transported from a century old cottage, There was a view of a small mountain peak with a rainbow over it in the background, It was surreal and real Lol
There is a huge satisfaction in doing things in a simple basic way i think, It's instinctive
This is terrific paul can we see more of this sort of story please...;o)
The world abounds with false cheer, so much so its taken over the world, truth is sacrificed in its name, unreality rules...
the representation of that girl in the poem is good, she reminds me of so many I've met
it's very hard not to be tempted by the idea of another loving you, we all crave that that,
i've been fooled by lovers with their own adgenda that's painful and often difficult to see because we don't want to
I'd like to take a clean slate, not to be hampered by old baggage, expectations or prejudice of any kind towards any notions
Time, can't buy it back for love nor money... :o( can only plow on...;o) and try not to waste it
All the while I thought I was dreaming or was that wished I was Lol
We spend most of our lives except when very young wondering about death which although makes sense does seem bizarre, but I suppose life is that
Lol funny....I hate getting viruses they rob the brain somehow and make all the negative emotions come to the fore...Lol
this early morn
brought no relief
by rising dawn
torn by the wind
trees on dark grey
soon rain lashing rain
will come this way
all day
reading the poems
having a say
day passes by
nothing got done
leave it behind
outside I'll run
fluff bunnies beckon
don't heed their call
rather be out
watching leaves fall
perfectly
enounsed
syllable
spills from her lips
and drifts down to the floor
rustling like dried leaves in the corner
even a fly
would have difficulty
gaining purchase
reply
funny i was just today imagining you were famous and being interviewed and i was also there as your editor and i was having to explain how you needed an editor cause you would throw your best poems away
not wrong about me chucking them Lol
i just dont see them as anything but thoughts that cross my mind and why would anyone else be interested
that's all
happy just to have them on ur site
before he was born
something about him
jaded and worn
now he is aging
and living a curse
re learning life's lessons
stuck in reverse
to facilitate their needs...................
or something cos they sure don't view them as people
ah that's it to facilitate their fantasies
not that differant is it
actually that would be to facilitate men's opinions
seems to have shrugged off
winters debilitations
and risen refreshed
garbed in the bright clean fabric of spring
the sun soars high
in a cloudless sky
my soul at midnight
holds no hope
of dawn
is raised
by triumphant sun
then brisk breeze
cues the daffodils
to dance
expected
of a true gentleman
tore foxes to shreds
and blew little birds
to smithereens
and “gentle women” blow men to shreds : o )
the landed gentry can be a bit of an illusion, their forefathers were in fact very wealthy towndwelling businessmen who were able to buy into the aristocracy and also provided the money for that sort of lifestyle which cannot be sustained on farming
to keep it going over the generations they had, if they were able to, marry heiresses
there were huge fortunes made in india and the colonies and by piracy
and the industrial revolution
a time before
love
loss
and pain
laced with bird song
signal morning
midnight
in muffling fog
a familiar yet
ominous sound
like thewarning bell
on an ocean buoy
tolled by sea's
rythmic swell
beautiful thing
I've ever heard
were notes
sung on high
by
a tiny blue bird
make her
soggy
and hard
to light
anti depressants and how subdued they became almost all life dimmed
Used to all the time as a child when we lived in hot climes the feeling of differant textures underfoot really brings one close to the “earth” :o)
he has not
but like a shark
in a swimming pool
he has unignorable
presence
takes control
giving bulk
while removing substance
takes control
giving bulk
while removing substance
looked up petrichor...
“ Petrichor, the name for the smell of rain on dry ground, is from oils given off by vegetation, absorbed onto neighboring surfaces, and released into the air after a first rain ”
One of my favourite smells...
Love that line it's how I've felt in a lovers arms... ;o)
the flame
I scorch
the flame
I scorch
smoothed by restless oceans
seed pod from the horsechestnut
that shaded summer garden
sixpence stained by christmas pudding
dated 1928
a tiny fossil set in stone
rough to the touch of fingers
old lace from grandmothers wedding dress
now stiff and yellowed parchment
andrew replies
seems ok to me, sometimes poems hang fire with the unsaid, but that's part of the poem : o )
eileen replies
it's the most “constructed” one i've ever written to date
it feels incomplete to me
andrew replies
i think that's the feeling of the poem
there is a sort of tangible precipice
really the collection is an end itself and you can't say more
like surf
across metalic grey skies
the state
of bone and muscle
come pulsating
along nerves
