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poetry

the tower

Around which they stand
unshakeable, proud, masters of all
the reason that lies behind
every move, each carefree step,
brick upon brick, fired,
a memory, then layered to a common tune
in the background, gently humming
old man with his stick, holding hands,
love at its first, and last,
this was us, our dream and now,
just a whisper, rubble
to fumble through for crumbs
to comfort the cold and forgotten

Unblemished by joy, the child with her shawl,
no protection from this barren life,
bare, for all who still see
this weathered face, trust destroyed,
all warmth and womanly instinct
seeped out for a well worn page,
insatiable lust, long forgotten

If you’d like to find out a bit more about this poem, click the link to the page “Explained” which shines a light on the background to each poem, or helps you to understand what the heck’s going on if you’re a bit baffled!

Categories
poetry

small

Imagine something beautiful, pure
bursts chaos from calm
, delicate, depending
on love to keep warm

Looking back, in a sense
see our fragile, human shells?
once so sure, now full of doubt,
or are you such as well?

Small, yet perfection
pure joy, long to hold
though afraid, at first, touched
if tainted, turns to cold

Keeping back a little, love
your curious tiny face
watching, fascination all around,
intrigued by every place

New life brings new hope
, things won’t stay the same
as every generation thinks, acts
in slightly different ways

So listen, learn, but be yourself,
the future in your hands
a changing world needs new minds
so be the best you can

If you’d like to find out a bit more about this poem, click the link to the page “Explained” which shines a light on the background to each poem, or helps you to understand what the heck’s going on if you’re a bit baffled!

Categories
poetry

The last sunset

First seen, sunrise
on lilting hills, misting
green to grey,
warming, anticipating
the early crescendo,
crimson trails towards
lazy sheep, grazing

Gloved hands,
tea for two,
steamy breath
rising, unhurried
from old camping mugs,
saved the day
all else, still,
boxed and safe

Looking back,
only two, so young
so far to go
from such unknown,
to so much seen,
friends, family, found
and lost
, pause, a thought,
helped by another red
, Italian, of course

Listen! the other side,
true country
never silent, empty
as first glance
muffled, a few birds,
feathered chit, chat all at once
while some sing, in tune,
well almost…
… the sheep, as always, just stare
, munching into space,
even the bees today, behaving
as if they know
no need for words…

A moment, then
back to earth, the boys
, now men, gently teasing

Breathe in the valley, long
for the last,
, watch an era end,
as the warm glow,
slipping quickly
retires for the night
to awake, a new home
, promise of a new dawn

If you’d like to find out a bit more about this poem, click the link to the page “Explained” which shines a light on the background to each poem, or helps you to understand what the heck’s going on if you’re a bit baffled!

Categories
poetry

the madness…

Hilary Swank: Million Dollar Baby

…of chasing your dreams
is the impossible knows
what can and can’t,
how long you’ve got before
the slipping tide, twists
what could have been to an ‘if’?
maybe, what would have made more sense
to settle back, relax,
see out your days watching movies, where,
from zero to hero, in five to ten, no more

Long enough to take your time,
exhale the smoke, slow, in artful curls
the bottle held, a pause, then drained away
new spirits found, dust off the old
run off the years, dawn to dusk
metered by minute by second, no sign,
of burning, cramping, splitting shins

Just bearable, a grimace, then body ripped,
shiny, oiled as new, ready to press
against the girl, still moist, the same
that walked away disgusted
been abused, they weren’t too graphic
finds in her heart the will to forgive,
hard to believe?

And, just at the end, as final ribbon tied
perfect lives, love’s turned around, like magic,
fate, serendipity, call it as you will,
but nothing like this, more measured
slow descent, the madness of normal,
ordinary, run of the mill…

Down the winding road, determined
to see it through, uphill, harder graft
the going shifts, as always
and giving up, like a wish, easy said,
easy slide, the abyss, as one false start
breathes another, yet…

, the unwashed child, malnourished
fades, its spirit leached; body to soil
and too, the uncertain gift deserves more
than just this meagre chance,
as make its case for life, yet none
the Lebanon’s orphaned stray
cards truly stacked against
you’re from the west, with all the decks
if she can make it, so can you, choose,
find your pair, you’ve no excuse.

If you’d like to find out a bit more about this poem, click the link to the page “Explained” which shines a light on the background to each poem, or helps you to understand what the heck’s going on if you’re a bit baffled!

Categories
poetry

Collecting Shells

Small boy, kneeling, gaze fixed
amongst the rocks, crystal clear
flashes its glimpse of life, appears,
then gone, uncertain, until another
braves the tranquillity, why?

Surely the boredom of sand and rock
a better bet than a dart, for what?
a taste of the other side, which
sooner or later, will work its way round

stared for hours watching
life follow its course, haphazard
cover to cover until one by one
their dances done, walks away

Yet, no memory complete without trophies
to treasure, justify each and every,
of time’s allocations, hands
that just can’t resist
what the eyes choose, attraction,
the easy option, a shell, ornate
bright colours to gather dust and fade
until one day, finally recalled
, thrown away, her story of life
forgotten, wrapped in plastic,
a black eternity, entombed

the man, weathered, walks the beach
gaze fixed amongst the waves, lapping
the froth and foam around his feet, bare
looks briefly at the rocks,
their magic, long gone,
as picks the pebble, washed, worn
like the wish, and throws
eyes closed, back to the sea

If you’d like to find out a bit more about this poem, click the link to the page “Explained” which shines a light on the background to each poem, or helps you to understand what the heck’s going on if you’re a bit baffled!

Categories
poetry

The poet

Complex verse, trickles up,
another from Ceridwen,
A flicker ‘midnight oil
as darkening walls,
an oak, spreading
each sinew strained; breaking point
Then caged, each word
, packed away
Like Ernö’s cube
To be decoded
By those that know…

Enough!

Should shout, should sing
Should dance on the tip of your
tongue, a play on the lips
A gentle kiss, applause
As the lovers twist, a wistful
smile, as Autumn falls from grace
to an icy clasp, Winter’s,
the embrace of brittle twigs

Emerge
From your chrysalis
Spring, to stumble through the air
A drunk with wings
Finding their feet , briefly
A year of passion
Took less than a minute
Not to be analysed, but breathed
A life in words

Err.
what happened to Summer?
A jig!
and dance again.

If you’d like to find out a bit more about this poem, click the link to the page “Explained” which shines a light on the background to each poem, or helps you to understand what the heck’s going on if you’re a bit baffled!

Categories
poetry

up there…

Jupiter

“This is the sun”, she said
as opened hands
nothing, then closer look
revealed the grains of sand
“this, the dust of stars
was after time was born
and you were formed”,
then later, kissed me softly,
tucked me in to dream instead
of other worlds, beyond
the clouds, beyond the gloom
the plane that winks, pretends
he’s up there too
where gasses trapped by gravity,
invisible, forced to roam in colours strange
wild, beyond the rainbow plains
of earths leaden footed light
to shine so bright, just for me
and those that look

If you’d like to find out a bit more about this poem, click the link to the page “Explained” which shines a light on the background to each poem, or helps you to understand what the heck’s going on if you’re a bit baffled!

Categories
poetry

First

Skying another off the first, the floozy
high, wide and scantily clad,
destined, graceless, the cover of trees
again, hide and seek, a tease
as brushes the bush, up and under
a different game, but, closing in,
the narrowing gaze
of the man born to disapprove, yet
today, almost forgiving, a twitch?
a smile, not quite, but pigeon steps…
content to allow
their play to flow, follow
its wayward course, chat
to spoil the tranquil greens, laughter
to puncture the air, the simple joys
of walking with friends, family, loves
like the drowning lad saved, maybe
he’s just breathing too,
each breath,
how pleasant is green,
how rich the many shades,
the lingering wet, fresh
cut turf in the breeze,
a tinge bittersweet as recall
names quietly erased, empty, the locker tags,
their pictures on walls, mostly men,
as smile in their prime,
now gathering dust, but enough
now is not that time,
these are the days to be awake
not to walk with fear, but dance
with whichever God you chose

If you’d like to find out a bit more about this poem, click the link to the page “Explained” which shines a light on the background to each poem, or helps you to understand what the heck’s going on if you’re a bit baffled!

Categories
poetry

Old.

Where is?
the hard skin of the pangolin
the quiet strum of the mandolin
the rhyme, lilting, from time to time
replaced by prose, line by soulless line

the discipline within the schools
a youth that know the law, so long before
the wrong from right, destined surely,
their lives upon the walls, scrawled in colour

the fish that used to plough this stream
now thick with slimy sticky stench,
that greased the gears in factories, echo
their purpose long forgotten

the odd looking man, who’d rant and rave
complained this world’s an early grave, and waits
to suck the you, the me, and him, he’s dead.
Instead our handsome men, more polished
stand, stare and talk as prompted, as those
that hold their strings, whose tune they dance,
with guile, guide

the worst, the best?
I’ve lost the which, the why the will
to live this way, I’m off, hand back my debts
to the banks, no thanks, they’re yours to hold,
“Dear Sir,
all money is theft, or property, perhaps?
Kind Regards”

the solution, confused? dust off those sandals,
wear that crazy shirt again, live somewhere loose,
remote like a cave, no bats, just relax
with a view of the sea, and warm, maybe,
a picture on the wall, fading, a family
to remind me how it used to be…

If you’d like to find out a bit more about this poem, click the link to the page “Explained” which shines a light on the background to each poem, or helps you to understand what the heck’s going on if you’re a bit baffled!

Categories
poetry

The Ship

RMS Titanic 1912

Sailed for the new lands, another
waved off from the pier
never able to get this close
but now, with dwindling crowds
can nearly push away with your hands

Shouted “good luck” to our brother,
his girls and the twins, turning away,
thinking just of adventure, anticipation
every breath, streets paved with the new,
exciting rhythms, to the virgin ears unheard
every corner a different verse
competes for attention, as patterns
scattered across the lands
notes of reason, no rhyme
unsettled, more than this,
same old, same old

Frustration, sometimes,
trapped crying like a child,
a pillow for a womb
a remark to heart?
you should bend, they say
even the trees wave
to the shifting tides, yet
for all this is, this is home

Can dress in a new coat, but
underneath, always, the same skin
revealing the roots, the way I should think,
the way I should speak
, should dye my hair, instead
all colours of the rainbow
show my truths to the world
same thoughts, different guise

Should dress, not in sombre clothes
as if prepared for my end,
but in bright, Friday night attire,
as if chasing new blood in the breeze, instead
respect of the dead, long forgotten

She asks quietly, and as always
“maybe I’ll leave, one day, but not yet,
there’s life in the old sea,”
and better the devils you know..

If you’d like to find out a bit more about this poem, click the link to the page “Explained” which shines a light on the background to each poem, or helps you to understand what the heck’s going on if you’re a bit baffled!

Categories
poetry

Uncovered

We bathe in crimson thoughts, deeds
their lingering stench, urban decay,
as far below, the city glows
concrete and steel, twisted
forming a hearth like old friends,
human waste in black trails, spiralling up
foul and choke the watching, captivated
unwilling to switch,
from chaos to calm

Here, a cage, thick wire mesh,
floor, to floor above
keeping out, or keeping in?
in dead, lifeless heat, hard to tell

Gravel whispers, “Move!”
crude grunts, not to be vague,
each stage, demands of the act on show
“Less!” smoke heavy on their breath
no need to mask intent,
though sure that I do, wear less
as with menace, hold their gaze

At last the body moves, mine
cooler, with the slight breeze
and, as their eyes invade at will,
in camera, I dance, a brief life
captured, on a lens, then turn,
slow, deliberate
if only long enough to know,
their death becomes them

If you’d like to find out a bit more about this poem, click the link to the page “Explained” which shines a light on the background to each poem, or helps you to understand what the heck’s going on if you’re a bit baffled!

Categories
poetry

The curtain

Always the curtains, just ajar
in her chair, watching
the shadows mocking
a slice of sunlight, glittering dust, probing
the murky depths of a cluttered life

The lights, always off
still rocking, back and forth, back and forth
holding her bundle, cold
with the same expression,
waiting for one day to walk in the room,
change the past

At night, the black broth, crossed
by occasional shadows,
pale like ghosts,
a face at the window
our eyes meet, maybe
or maybe look right through

But fleeting, back to the chair
you could hear, bare floorboards
their own private grief
again and again, bemoaning
the only sound to break the still

I was a child then, so never knew
the full, just snippets overheard
mothers’ gossip, the way to school, which
over years, pieced together to form, perhaps
this shade of truth, though
the last time, years later, saw that house,
the curtains were closed.

If you’d like to find out a bit more about this poem, click the link to the page “Explained” which shines a light on the background to each poem, or helps you to understand what the heck’s going on if you’re a bit baffled!

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poetry

The last dream

At the base of a hill, a grass bank
unripe daffodils poking through
beckoning spring, while curious crows
hop around unkempt, a corridor
with a kind face, lights overhead
taxiing towards departure?
the raindrop running down
window overhead, like a tear
images you can’t place,
flit through your mind
skip, pause at random, while
the clock, relentless, counts down
hours, minutes, to an unknown time…

The waiting room, unawake
rows on rows of beds, sheets
unsettled disarray
save the few, clean, pristine
and in the shadows, collared,
for more without a clue

The end? a new beginning?
, some kind of vague middle? thoughts
muddle through the semi-conscious
chains of command to a general,
lounging back, cigar in mouth,
whiskey in hand, triple distilled,
“You’ll be fine, just count to ten,
nine…”
a soft laugh, echoes
and, as I close the door
peace at last.

If you’d like to find out a bit more about this poem, click the link to the page “Explained” which shines a light on the background to each poem, or helps you to understand what the heck’s going on if you’re a bit baffled!

There is an illustrated version of this poem on Commaful, available here :

https://commaful.com/play/llwynog/the-last-dream/

Please note that you don’t need to sign in to view, you can just close the sign in pop up and the poem should still play normally.

Categories
poetry

The Scream

Not the greatest look,
but less, who should care
private plated, seat back, tuned
some far off desert island
eyes shut, mouth agape,
almost dead, can’t work out,
another Munch?
or catching flies in bulk
either way, you’ve arrived
when you lounge across
two bays, far from the queues
bathed in costly hide
from ex-German cows,
radio humming quietly, far
from the muddling crowd, mums
with pointy pushchairs, content
to let your better, younger half
fight others’ fishing wives
in retail heaven, or not
depends which way inclined,
somewhere in the valleys
with time to chill, on a Tuesday

Normally I’d be sorry,
for nudging the horn, but,
from the corner of my eye
it was a priceless awakening

If you’d like to find out a bit more about this poem, click the link to the page “Explained” which shines a light on the background to each poem, or helps you to understand what the heck’s going on if you’re a bit baffled!

Categories
poetry

The Carpenter

“The patient chisel wastes no wood”
remembered, his father’s words,
a repetition, forefathers passed
each, the careful craft adjusts
slow, the steady, almost silent graft
of rhythmic hands, huge, hard as oak,
calloused bark, yet soft,
the often gentle touch,
shaving, planing curls,
almost delicate,
some bevelled, smooth,
edging lines, straight to curves,
mortise to tenon, turning
burning, shadows to the wall
from flickered lamps, and still,
the work goes on,

A labour of lost love, always
, the back of his mind, his son
left this trade for new worlds,
new minds to find, seeking warmth, hoping
but only cold, hostile tongues,
strange beliefs, men
without word or honour,
of a time, a world, not his
beauty, unspoilt by cynical eyes
his cloth and seed, surely
the best of efforts, deserved,
his wife, mother, silent now, just watching
a spirit entombed in wood, growing
taking shape, a soul knowing
the pain of every strike, every blow
a tear inside, but necessary,
death respects no man, unprotected
so the work continues, unabated
without compromise, pure passion
for centuries imitated, never surpassed
the cross of love.

If you’d like to find out a bit more about this poem, click the link to the page “Explained” which shines a light on the background to each poem, or helps you to understand what the heck’s going on if you’re a bit baffled!