john-lock - Hello Poetry

Storm clouds gather on Surrey hilltops Shadowing the thatches along the street He hurries his pace over the cobbles To where she waiting on a pinewood seat ~ She touched his cheek with shy affection Love lines traced with finger tips Lifting her face for his attention Tasting heaven on eager lips ~ He took her in his arms once more Kissed her once- then twice With arms embracing, hearts a’ racing Touching the tip of paradise ~ Drum roll thunder split asunder Skies torn with lightening chains Nature blessed, then caressed Their love with April rain

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Mar 2, 2018

Mar 2, 2018 at 5:38 AM UTC

Love in a Surrey Village.

Storm clouds gather on Surrey hilltops Shadowing the thatches along the street He hurries his pace over the cobbles To where she waiting on a pinewood seat ~ She touched his cheek with shy affection Love lines traced with finger tips Lifting her face for his attention Tasting heaven on eager lips ~ He took her in his arms once more Kissed her once- then twice With arms embracing, hearts a’ racing Touching the tip of paradise ~ Drum roll thunder split asunder Skies torn with lightening chains Nature blessed, then caressed Their love with April rain

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Interval A release of conversation Above me Vivaldi lingers in the blue mushrooms ~ Theatre smell Music dust in crushed burgundy Climbing the stairways To the halftime bars ~ I sip overpriced whiskey Amid a peck of cheek kisses Murmur of nothing talk and the fog of stale Chanel ~ She stands by the window drapes Isolated by timidity I engage her With the price of a smile ~ Elgar easy on the lifting strings As the ****** casts it spell Oblivious To two empty seats.

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Mar 1, 2018

Mar 1, 2018 at 11:37 AM UTC

The Beehive.

Interval A release of conversation Above me Vivaldi lingers in the blue mushrooms ~ Theatre smell Music dust in crushed burgundy Climbing the stairways To the halftime bars ~ I sip overpriced whiskey Amid a peck of cheek kisses Murmur of nothing talk and the fog of stale Chanel ~ She stands by the window drapes Isolated by timidity I engage her With the price of a smile ~ Elgar easy on the lifting strings As the ****** casts it spell Oblivious To two empty seats.

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In the patchwork land of green and gold They walked where Chaucer’s tales were told Cross the rambling rustic shires To raise their eyes to the towering spires From far flung lands across the sea From Avalon and Linden Lea ~ Oh mother Church of England fair In morning mass and evening prayer Poets take up their pens and quills And write of blue remembered hills Ask is there honey still for tea In Avalon and Linden Lea.

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Feb 13, 2018

Feb 13, 2018 at 6:36 AM UTC

Pilgrims and Poets.

In the patchwork land of green and gold They walked where Chaucer’s tales were told Cross the rambling rustic shires To raise their eyes to the towering spires From far flung lands across the sea From Avalon and Linden Lea ~ Oh mother Church of England fair In morning mass and evening prayer Poets take up their pens and quills And write of blue remembered hills Ask is there honey still for tea In Avalon and Linden Lea.

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The springtime of love When we played with life Conjured sunlight in November Wonder in suburbia Shrunk the world to fit our dreams. ~ Now the winds of time Pull in opposite directions The gap, ever widening The weevils of familiarity Feeding on our union. ~ Nights of pretend passion Stirring the embers Going through the motions Is there meaning in a kiss Is there truth in a caress? ~ The lies I tell you The lies that I tell myself Will this play still run? Or time to pull down the curtain We seek the answer. ~ Between the silences.

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Feb 12, 2018

Feb 12, 2018 at 4:05 AM UTC

Drifting.

The springtime of love When we played with life Conjured sunlight in November Wonder in suburbia Shrunk the world to fit our dreams. ~ Now the winds of time Pull in opposite directions The gap, ever widening The weevils of familiarity Feeding on our union. ~ Nights of pretend passion Stirring the embers Going through the motions Is there meaning in a kiss Is there truth in a caress? ~ The lies I tell you The lies that I tell myself Will this play still run? Or time to pull down the curtain We seek the answer. ~ Between the silences.

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Saddened mask of yesterdays make up Tousled hair and shrunken veins The tinselled high life long forgotten In her world of constant pain ~ Selling her favours for a pittance Placating a demon that never rests Petty crimes, begging letters Sunken beauty, sagging ******* ~ Living with the beast within her Ringing sweat from every pore Demanding, pleading, ever feeding That always open hungry maw ~ New Cross station Monday morning Bored commuters, London rain Poppy killed her screaming torment Underneath the city train.

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Feb 10, 2018

Feb 10, 2018 at 3:53 AM UTC

Poppy.

Saddened mask of yesterdays make up Tousled hair and shrunken veins The tinselled high life long forgotten In her world of constant pain ~ Selling her favours for a pittance Placating a demon that never rests Petty crimes, begging letters Sunken beauty, sagging ******* ~ Living with the beast within her Ringing sweat from every pore Demanding, pleading, ever feeding That always open hungry maw ~ New Cross station Monday morning Bored commuters, London rain Poppy killed her screaming torment Underneath the city train.

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The Bowl, the Garden, I've played them all Las Vegas in the September Fall Caesars, Stardust, and the Sands Obliging girls the one night stands My face on all the magazines Penthouse keys, stretch limousines ~ Still singing through my autumn years Though the young don’t want to hear My greying hair is touched with blue I sing the old songs, nothing new Though the voice is clear, the pitch still perfect I’m booked to sing the granny circuit ~ But I’ll never quit the spotlight glare Push me on in my old wheel chair I’ll sing for a dollar or one thin dime Strike up the band, just one more time This ageing idol doesn't give a **** So give me the intro, play it Sam.

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Feb 8, 2018

Feb 8, 2018 at 3:50 PM UTC

Play it again Sam.

The Bowl, the Garden, I've played them all Las Vegas in the September Fall Caesars, Stardust, and the Sands Obliging girls the one night stands My face on all the magazines Penthouse keys, stretch limousines ~ Still singing through my autumn years Though the young don’t want to hear My greying hair is touched with blue I sing the old songs, nothing new Though the voice is clear, the pitch still perfect I’m booked to sing the granny circuit ~ But I’ll never quit the spotlight glare Push me on in my old wheel chair I’ll sing for a dollar or one thin dime Strike up the band, just one more time This ageing idol doesn't give a **** So give me the intro, play it Sam.

20

Take my hand We will walk the forgotten lanes Made for iron shod hooves In the footsteps where sandaled feet Of the lost legions followed the eagle standard ~ But I see you grow weary of beauty Of the counterpane fields of green and gold Miss Marple villages, soft in the twilight Then come, down to the Romney Marsh Where time is in tune with your deepest fears ~ We’ll take the old road to the Burmarsh Chimes By the ruined church of St Augustine, silvered by moonlight Where communion wine and the Free Traders Brandy barrels Once rested side by side united under the Lords protection Where the tolling bell called the dead to evensong ~ There, by the east wall of the Lady Chapel Tear washed sentinels lean against the west wind Underneath the wild thyme and harebells Lay the sad bones of the forgotten children Come, this is not the place to linger ~ Safe home under the oak beams of the White Heart Amid farming folk with the smell of the land on them Setting the stage for beery nostalgia Sit here by the warmth of the fireside While I tell you tales of the Night Riders.

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Feb 6, 2018

Feb 6, 2018 at 3:26 PM UTC

Take my Hand.

Take my hand We will walk the forgotten lanes Made for iron shod hooves In the footsteps where sandaled feet Of the lost legions followed the eagle standard ~ But I see you grow weary of beauty Of the counterpane fields of green and gold Miss Marple villages, soft in the twilight Then come, down to the Romney Marsh Where time is in tune with your deepest fears ~ We’ll take the old road to the Burmarsh Chimes By the ruined church of St Augustine, silvered by moonlight Where communion wine and the Free Traders Brandy barrels Once rested side by side united under the Lords protection Where the tolling bell called the dead to evensong ~ There, by the east wall of the Lady Chapel Tear washed sentinels lean against the west wind Underneath the wild thyme and harebells Lay the sad bones of the forgotten children Come, this is not the place to linger ~ Safe home under the oak beams of the White Heart Amid farming folk with the smell of the land on them Setting the stage for beery nostalgia Sit here by the warmth of the fireside While I tell you tales of the Night Riders.

29

Stark on the Wilshire skyline Lean the monoliths of mystery Marshalled by the Heel Stone Sentinels guard the secret That mocks the mind of man ~ Huddles of academics With puny trowels and theories Probe the dusty chalk lands Scratching for the key That picks the lock of time ~ Come, you followers In your robes of worship Circle round the blue stones As ghosts of the ancients Dance in the Pagan fire.

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Feb 5, 2018

Feb 5, 2018 at 5:13 PM UTC

Stonehenge.

Stark on the Wilshire skyline Lean the monoliths of mystery Marshalled by the Heel Stone Sentinels guard the secret That mocks the mind of man ~ Huddles of academics With puny trowels and theories Probe the dusty chalk lands Scratching for the key That picks the lock of time ~ Come, you followers In your robes of worship Circle round the blue stones As ghosts of the ancients Dance in the Pagan fire.

17

Through the open window The night breeze, urgent now Rippling, persuading The lace curtains To join the dance ~ She turns again Blends the ticking clock To the drip of a distant tap Into an uneven beat To fit the discords of memories ~ She reaches out Fingers the empty pillow Recalls the tangle of hair The ghost face softened By half light ~ Where do you rest tonight? My walk away darling Does she trace the love lines? Down, down as I once did Tell me lover ~ Into the small hours Known so well to the lonely Passing headlights Chase bedroom shadows She closes her eyes and swallows the pain.

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Feb 4, 2018

Feb 4, 2018 at 11:10 AM UTC

Past Midnight.

Through the open window The night breeze, urgent now Rippling, persuading The lace curtains To join the dance ~ She turns again Blends the ticking clock To the drip of a distant tap Into an uneven beat To fit the discords of memories ~ She reaches out Fingers the empty pillow Recalls the tangle of hair The ghost face softened By half light ~ Where do you rest tonight? My walk away darling Does she trace the love lines? Down, down as I once did Tell me lover ~ Into the small hours Known so well to the lonely Passing headlights Chase bedroom shadows She closes her eyes and swallows the pain.

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