Some life experiences bring a finality and an inner chaos that would not relent. Hence the jumbled imagery and tones. Hope the points carry across, subtle or otherwise.
In there somewhere was goodbye
Shoulders slump as footsteps fade into
the darkened hallway; out of sight.
Then a click-sound of a door, shut;
punctuates a chest-heaving full-stop.
Regret now seeps across the
tidal plain, waiting in vain hope
for a reverse ebb that doesn't arrive.
Regret, only regret remains:
Strain and hear that inaudible sigh
as you lock lips in silhouetted embrace;
It was the kiss of a toxic cocktail--
It's the burnt smell of rubber
that lingers thick in the air after
the smoldered wreck on the road.
It's the ping of a pin dropping
after a grenade had been lobbed
and the afterthought of my diving --
But did I dive to shield you or
was it to duck out of the way?
Regret is the sound of pebbles
tapping off a casket lid as they
bounce from a cascade of apologies.
Still that door clicks shut -- the last time.
Your footfalls fade into the bright,
searing light of the pain that is left behind.
Have you ever wondered that you might one day put down 'the pen,' and just walk away?
Let no wind stain the streaks upon my cheeks;
Let no rain dry out the voices in the halls:
Should there be a remembrance of this day,
Let these words someday, bring us back this way.
But please, let me not Rimbaud upon Poetry's walls.
Poetry by chance...
Dance, laugh, flirt, half a flirt,
not necessarily in that order --
lights flicker - bokeh raindrops.
Initially, my feet tap in time;
but as the chorus returns,
by its volition, my body moves;
the bass line sends my chest
thumping to a primal beat.
All through this commotion
my hope recedes... then,
As if by magic,
you looked my way...
I remember looking up,
holding your big hand;
the moon large and bright
just like it is tonight --
we walked hand in hand
as we talked of dreams
and visiting far away lands.
I remember looking down
at my shoes, hands on my lap
as I was told to apply myself --
just hunker down;
I alone had to make my path
no talk of dreams or wishes
until the work before me is done.
I've had a certain longing;
of pinings in misty recollection,
while tomorrow held no more wonder.
If things beyond reach are like that moon;
then teach me to dream the possible dream.
I've stared past
fork-strewn dinner plates;
tines pinging like tuning forks,
precise and crystalline:
from scratches on writing pads,
to clacking on fading keyboard tiles,
to taps on smudged touch screens --
thoughts and feelings exiled, martyred
for existence beyond skull and ribs.
my chin bobs
to strains of melodies;
countering the blare of the radio beats.
No one sees this march to my own drums.
Breathe in -- aspire
breathe out -- expire
my aspiration knows no expiration.
With each sunset
there be -- sunrise awaits
and therein lies my expiation.
Here in a downy refuge lay,
this germinant resolve:
what I was I no longer am.
but that singular moment
which anchored our hulls
and kept us from drifting apart.
Bring to remembrance:
from your belfry, always
remind us of what brought
our footsteps here, then --
teach us to number our days
for they have yet to come.
The masks we wear, to us are given,
assigned to us before our cue.
The choice is ours to reveal unbidden-
A grand charade with many a clue.
Would you be this or be you that;
Is it surfaced or is it hidden?
Not all secrets are lies or deceit,
Our view of others we must widen.
The genuine heart will itself reveal
Its spots or stripes are where they're at.
The lot of what we think we see,
provide but circumstantial caveat.
We often discard what eyes can't see;
Too often distrust what hearts conceal.
This masquerade of life continues;
Its colours and shapes our truths congeal.
As one that has fallen from grace,
these shoulders droop in the weight
of once vibrant blooms.
Their colour, the only glimmer of hope;
that one tomorrow, from the ash heap
again shall rise a glory
of a presently distant triumph.
When shall this garden hurry up
and farewell an overstaying winter?
Fill this taciturn vessel
with lugubrious melodies,
there are no other sounds
but melancholic petals
shed from springtime's
dismal cheeks... pink
with promise, weighed
by shadows dark and deep:
you are the only light
whose brilliance breaks
Hades' brutal shackles.
Aye, living & achieving freedom
requires an openness to vulnerability,
to taste fear & persevere.
There are those that would take away
our liberty & even our life.
Nothing is free, we pay dearly even just to breathe.
It takes guts and determination,
then finally we become aware
of who we truly are;
veterans & survivors,
mad but alive,
trading fear for freedom:
Unrelenting explorers --
Trekking the unknown
Explorers of lives yet to be lived.
Deep within me
lay a sea poem
of long ago;
where air is fresh
but blusters wildly
when southerlies blow,
slick and slimy
mud between the toes-
mangrove's brackish home.
in the open channel
close to where corals grow.
But further than the distance
of childhood recollection,
where starfish-lined parades
Gone are those carefree days
along with sands, white as snow;
somewhere deep within me
lay a coastal tale of long ago.
It may be dark;
effervescent lights dance
to a blaring par-tay tune
while in the shadows, we parlay...
reach over me
and flick the switch;
let bokeh find clarity
in our fervent embrace.
The door shuts behind ,
key turns, footsteps
a tedious shift;
eyes lift up
then revert back
to telly, magazine,
PS3 and tablet.
The dining table
is empty yet cluttered
inhabited by non-edible
"There should be
something or other
in the fridge,"
a mouth points.
"Got that, thanks."
Footsteps stravege back,
that's what it feels like
to be a meal-ticket.
The door slams shut.
~language warning disclaimer. You have been forewarned :-)
Staring down yet another
Once it was said
A canine's a bloke's
On the sick bed
Ignoring that mountain
Of unpaid bills
Got my trusty
Mobile & tablet
The world entire
At my fingertips
Nothing like a touch screen
To scratch on that
Friend or foe
I am 4G's bitch.
No longer looked up to
at least not as much as before
no longer consulted
or given the usual care
No longer do cogs congregate
not even to syncopate
Time keeps ticking away
although this clock's hands stay
Where has the cuckoo flown to?
Where shall it alight?
Somewhere the sand has rested,
glinting like stars in the night.