Poetryman

Friday, 22 February 2013

Vienna

those few moments

do you recall

we lived in love

I consumed you all

you held my hand

lost in your eyes

the moment took us

just truth ~ not lies

our love as deep

as it can be

you breathed me in

and made me see

we lived a dream

a life together

blinking our eyes

in our Vienna

how time mocked

so wrong for us

I tried so hard

yet ended lost

we should have been

just us forever

in our beautiful city

Wien ~ Vienna

now you are lost

my heart still trembles

you live within me

I am forever humbled

you were mine

and now it is never

the love we shared

is gone forever

yet in my heart

we will always be

in our Vienna

just you and me

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