Poetryman

Thursday, 31 January 2013

Mad Love

Oh no not again

there’s his child within

doing what he shouldn’t

a cardinal sin

raising my anger

from reality he hides

I can feel myself raging

deep down inside

“Do as you’re told”

I scream in my head

desperately wanting the frustration

to end

it’s burning me up

with a knot in my gut

whatever I say

he just won’t give it up

Try as I do

when he says

“me?”

“YES YOU!”

he melts me inside

with his puppy dog eyes

my shoulders sag down

with a huff

and a sigh

“God you’re annoying”

I say through my grin

in my anger I smile

I can’t help but love him!

Tuesday, 4 September 2012

To Catch a Snowflake

Bathed by the moonlight and the sparkling distant stars,
where ancient lovers live, their aura seeping from afar.

As the first fall flows, diamond crystals coat the ground,
in their symphony of silence, a crashing nothingness of sound.

Fragile, frozen touches brush against reluctant minds,

the warmth in their beauty sending shivers down the spine.

Eager hands reach out, grasping harshly, closing tight,

the frenzied fury of their need, ending each one’s life.

For the briefest of moments their grace is sublime,

yet in an instant they are gone, like the passage of time.

To catch a falling snowflake ~ stop and wonder how,

with no past and no future, they exist in the now.

If the time should come, if your soul begins to calm,

you may look at your own snowflake ~ resting gently on your palm.

Friday, 31 August 2012

The Old Bus Stop

Life stands still at the old bus stop

where the gangs roam free, no police

the cops

too scared to go

there with them, the scavengers, thieves

and the whores with men

Don’t dare to go, leave them be, they can fend

for themselves

if they die

who will see, not them, or you

not me, will see

they are nothing

Tattooed bodies roam the streets

with guns, and drugs

giving out sweets

to seduce the young, give them a gun

they are theirs

forever

they are part of the gang, to die, perhaps

to die with a bang, however they die

who will give a damn

they were just another

one of a gang

See the graffiti adorning the walls, of the old bus stop

in the middle of wars

of rivals

and thugs, with their knives

they mug

the innocent few

who never knew, not to go after dark

or before the lark

to the old bus stop ~ just next to the park

Friday, 10 August 2012

A Complicated Man

There are too many halves to make just one whole,

they fight for supremacy, they tear at my soul,

for the right to be free, to escape from within,

to be the dominant one, the one that must win,

There is carefree and happy, so light in its mood,

mixed with laughter and joy bringing all that is good.

Then there is thoughtful ~ it is deep and sad,

raising anger and fury, it is boiling and mad.

Still there is more dwelling deep down inside,

there is love and romance which so often hides.

Not ruthless and cold with the harshest of stares,

that is daring and bold, it never really cares.

Which one today, that is out of my hands,

it was once said to me that I am a complicated man.

Poetryman

Monday, 21 May 2012

Echoes of Souls

Listen to the wind

whispers in the leaves

all around are signs

in the Earth ~ in the trees

Playing in the clouds

shadows passing by

forgotten long ago

glimpses with an eye

Searching for the lost

those never to be found

departed in their grief

their song a haunting sound

Eternities of drifting

upon our corporeal plain

their hunger to move on

will always be in vain

Now your mind is open

tuned in to their cries

you can hear them calling

so lonely in the night

Please never forget

this secret which you hold
you are now a guardian

for the echoes of souls

Poetryman

The Passing of Ages

Weariness creeps, like vines round an ancient oak

with an ever tightening grip

not suffocating, yet gently reminding ~ it is time

The passing of ages, as the sun begins its last journey

descending, into the shadows

to sleep with legends past

When darkness falls, peace ebbs through the soul

old lights fade, becoming memories

entombed, in their own eternal mausoleum

Poetryman

Sunday, 29 April 2012

One

it ticks and tocks as I stare at the clock

so long now gone, all alone in my home

with nothing but her flowing around in my mind

watching the hours, wiling away time

my mind starts to wander, a smile on my face

as I think of her beauty, her love and her grace

of our time spent together, planning forever

all the joy and the smiles and so much laughter

of our beautiful children now merged into one

bringing happiness and fun to our family home

they are brothers and sisters, there for each other

no longer two families, they are one forever

in the blink of an eye she’ll be back in my arms

melting into my safety ~ my mind once again calm

Poetryman