cyclamen-spark - Hello Poetry

Disentangling abstractedy, A bee returning crazily along the path of least resistance Flying home. Through the orchids, flax and irises Lilacs dripping promises, Mist-laced and mapped with honesty He goes home. Morning recriminations Bitter sprinkles in the milk, Stood there; his mind is wandering to apricots and silk Desire twisted hungrily, A door slammed...... home overthrown by silence. Storm clouds horizon kissing Dark thoughts of something missing, ........then nothing more.

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Feb 9, 2013

Feb 9, 2013 at 5:06 PM UTC

Abrupt Ending

Disentangling abstractedy, A bee returning crazily along the path of least resistance Flying home. Through the orchids, flax and irises Lilacs dripping promises, Mist-laced and mapped with honesty He goes home. Morning recriminations Bitter sprinkles in the milk, Stood there; his mind is wandering to apricots and silk Desire twisted hungrily, A door slammed...... home overthrown by silence. Storm clouds horizon kissing Dark thoughts of something missing, ........then nothing more.

16

This week has been very long so far Maybe because I mashed my head on Saturday, But Joe turned up to surprise his Ma, Would have bin rude not to share the MDMA. But what goes up has to come down, We had our fun, our chats, our tunes. On Sunday he was Nottingham bound Monday a pin-pricked balloon. Overcompensation followed I Frontlined the pets, took the cat to the vets, did the weekly shop, used the hoover and mop.......watched "The Waltons"........I made pies and mash, grieved for spent cash, looked for a job, tried not to open my gob..........watched "The Waltons"......I sorted the cupboards, mixed up my words, misheard repeatedly, had great thoughts ...fleetingly........watched "The Waltons" Finally Friday beckons invitedly, a time of unwinding. I can't believe that in the past I would have bin planning More pill taking excitedly.More fun and lights blinding But thank god I'm too old to be young ..... Must be soon Spring.

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Feb 7, 2013

Feb 7, 2013 at 6:51 PM UTC

The Visit

This week has been very long so far Maybe because I mashed my head on Saturday, But Joe turned up to surprise his Ma, Would have bin rude not to share the MDMA. But what goes up has to come down, We had our fun, our chats, our tunes. On Sunday he was Nottingham bound Monday a pin-pricked balloon. Overcompensation followed I Frontlined the pets, took the cat to the vets, did the weekly shop, used the hoover and mop.......watched "The Waltons"........I made pies and mash, grieved for spent cash, looked for a job, tried not to open my gob..........watched "The Waltons"......I sorted the cupboards, mixed up my words, misheard repeatedly, had great thoughts ...fleetingly........watched "The Waltons" Finally Friday beckons invitedly, a time of unwinding. I can't believe that in the past I would have bin planning More pill taking excitedly.More fun and lights blinding But thank god I'm too old to be young ..... Must be soon Spring.

14

Sometimes it's hard to know what is What should....and why? And is there any point........or not? We're born, we live, we die. And in between we our noses run, we bite our tongues, we lie We lose our place, we turn our face, we buy. There's love and mud and bubblewrap Dropped spoons, old tunes and bills. ***** boots and plastic crap, What doesn't make you strong just kills.

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Jan 29, 2013

Jan 29, 2013 at 8:36 PM UTC

Shorter than you thought

Sometimes it's hard to know what is What should....and why? And is there any point........or not? We're born, we live, we die. And in between we our noses run, we bite our tongues, we lie We lose our place, we turn our face, we buy. There's love and mud and bubblewrap Dropped spoons, old tunes and bills. ***** boots and plastic crap, What doesn't make you strong just kills.

10

I could write something noble something great majestic words that soar and break the stoniest heart to shards upon some distant shore I could write something magical something weird perplexing text threatening like a bust-perched raven only "nevermore. nevermore." I could write something sweet something of love honeysugared letters piling confetti-like upon the lap of my only ***** I could.......but I am ****** so I will not not do much but snore.

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Jan 26, 2013

Jan 26, 2013 at 8:25 PM UTC

Untitled

I could write something noble something great majestic words that soar and break the stoniest heart to shards upon some distant shore I could write something magical something weird perplexing text threatening like a bust-perched raven only "nevermore. nevermore." I could write something sweet something of love honeysugared letters piling confetti-like upon the lap of my only ***** I could.......but I am ****** so I will not not do much but snore.

10

It stings my skin, Ice bees freezing exposed cells. It snows And goes on snowing And I must keep on going. I yearn For woolly prayers and ease to tell my, Well, I mean... I freeze Alone ,frozen by unspoken pleas of caution.

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Jan 26, 2013

Jan 26, 2013 at 8:05 PM UTC

Snow Good

It stings my skin, Ice bees freezing exposed cells. It snows And goes on snowing And I must keep on going. I yearn For woolly prayers and ease to tell my, Well, I mean... I freeze Alone ,frozen by unspoken pleas of caution.

12

Burnt Silk Leaves No Ash Or Trace of it's Existence Like An Empty Finished Romance or When The Music Finishes After The Last Slow dance. Like Used Imagination or Dead Man's Memory it Leaves No Legacy For The soft Cocoon or Caterpillar To Call It's own. As The Hoarfrost Melts Upon The Lawn Or The Dew Disappears With the dawn Eventually When death Appears to Claim Your Soul, Whose There to Say You Ever Lived At all?

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Jan 26, 2013

Jan 26, 2013 at 7:13 PM UTC

Burnt Silk

Burnt Silk Leaves No Ash Or Trace of it's Existence Like An Empty Finished Romance or When The Music Finishes After The Last Slow dance. Like Used Imagination or Dead Man's Memory it Leaves No Legacy For The soft Cocoon or Caterpillar To Call It's own. As The Hoarfrost Melts Upon The Lawn Or The Dew Disappears With the dawn Eventually When death Appears to Claim Your Soul, Whose There to Say You Ever Lived At all?

15

Frost fronds upon the window glass owned by the night Is cold, And I inside this box of tin shiver within, feel old. Still I lie softly whispering lullabies not sweet Will he pass by or shall I die? My feet frozen like sleet.

0

Jan 26, 2013

Jan 26, 2013 at 7:00 PM UTC

The Night Is Cold

Frost fronds upon the window glass owned by the night Is cold, And I inside this box of tin shiver within, feel old. Still I lie softly whispering lullabies not sweet Will he pass by or shall I die? My feet frozen like sleet.

7