March 11, 2021

 

 

So many stories

rolled into one.

People we met,

battles we won

 

whilst on the journey

that took us to this point.

The madness of youth,

didn’t disappoint.

 

Freedom from responsibility

and wanting it all.

Never stopping to measure

the risks far too tall.

 

Living each day as our last,

with time melting away.

Until the moment of truth,

when the gods had their say.

 

 

April 28, 2017

 

 

Dusted, broken,

put back on the shelf.

No-one any the wiser

but stay true to oneself.

 

Trusted, awoken

to discover deceit. 

Wipe clean the conscience,

let there be no repeat.

 

Busted, spoken to

with reprimand.

Now going forward

after slapped hand

 

 

October 22, 2016

 

 

It’s a clause

in the contract;

a codicil

of love.

A passage

to freedom,

and ultimately

a deal breaker.

Sign on the

dotted line –

I don’t think so!

 

 

April 14, 2016

 

 

Oh frown that came

and crumpled skin so fair,

when asked to expand on that which

caused an anxious glare.

 

Such agony that touched

ones very being,

as tears welled up,

distress, what we were seeing.

 

Oh time – the Boss

of one’s past misdemeanours.

Now dirty washing

taken to the cleaners.

 

Oh past, no tide

can ever hope to change.

Someone, somewhere will know

the truth, however strange.

 

Oh guilt, so heavy

on one’s shoulders still.

That never can be remedied

by any kind of pill.

 

Yet memory, so exacting,

in fine detail, chooses to recall,

that of which now matters,

really, not at all!

 

 

 

 

 

 

October 6, 2015

 

 

and history repeated itself,

as if the prototype had been cloned.

This being long before the electronic revolution,

so there was no-one home when he phoned.

 

 

September 24, 2015

 

 

Although the stone wall

looks quite well.

One cannot fail to see,

it’s body swell.

 

And also bricked up,

can be clearly seen,

the space where,

sill and glass have been.

 

And on closer inspection,

there’s signs of damp,

and two shades of mortar,

from different builders stamp.

 

So not nearly as grand

as at the first sighting,

and nowhere near as old,

as time, inviting.

 

But still mind blowing

to other passers by,

who don’t possess

my critical eye.

 

 

August 25, 2015

 

 

Sweet solitude, that is all mine

to do with as I please.

My escape route to sanity,

when pressure starts to squeeze.

 

Sweet solitude, my heaven on earth;

a place where I can breathe.

My answer to disorganised chaos,

when fists clench and brain doth seethe.

 

Sweet solitude, that lass I know;

my companionable reflection,

who in the mirror, nods back at me,

and points me in the right direction.

 

Sweet solitude, my last chance saloon,

when all around agree,

no hope is there of sanity,

ever coming from me.

 

Sweet solitude, my dearest friend,

and many friends I know.

But she has stayed the longest,

whilst the others come and go.

 

Sweet solitude, my shadowlands;

my alter ego too,

when of myself I finally tire,

my pseudonym stays true.

 

Sweet solitude, my rescuer,

who pulls me from the floor,

when into old ways I do revert,

through that inevitable trap door.

 

Sweet solitude, my stabiliser;

my steadying support.

My life-line through all madness,

that I do tend to court.

 

Sweet solitude, my ivory tower;

no bigger picture do I need,

though others dispute that ferociously;

‘Just get a life’ they plead.

 

Sweet solitude, my resting place,

where I came from at the start.

And when this cycle is complete,

tis where, no more, will beat my heart.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

January 14, 2015

 

 

Better men

have gone to their grave,

through a word slipped out

in an innocent rave.

 

Lesser men,

not knowing how to behave,

have survived much worse

by the closest shave.

 

 

 

November 23, 2014

 

 

Like a trickle of water

that started the flood.

Like a prick of a finger

that released the blood.

 

Like a backward glance,

after walking away.

These things all start off,

in the smallest way.

 

Like a crumb of comfort

from newly baked bread.

Like a handshake, polite,

that stayed in the head.

 

Like a brush of the shoulder

from an accidental collision;

the anticipation there,

in the mind’s inner vision.

 

Like a first blade of grass,

from a newly sown lawn.

The workload to follow,

is no idle yawn.

 

Like a wish of a lifetime,

when young and a teen.

Like a tip of an iceberg;

the danger unseen.

 

 

 

 

November 1, 2014

 

 

So much was said

that was not real;

such pitter-patter,

such crazy spiel.

 

Oh, judge them not,

you higher power,

that sees them

in their final hour.

 

So much was said

that was not true,

in an effort to shine

and others outdo.

 

Now all their actions

in total counted:

In the end, not a fortune,

was there amounted.

 

So much was said

in loud voices spoken,

but then without choice;

a promise broken,

 

before hands bound,

with no escape,

and no lea-way out

of old red tape.

 

So much was said,

at the offset,

when ‘possibility’,

the onside bet.

 

Oh judge them not,

you higher power.

Let their souls know peace

in their final hour.

 

 

 

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