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Marc Hawkins Oct 2017
She told me she was sailing
To a place called ‘karma’.
She told me I had
Drained her of life
And in return she would
Empty me of mine.
She claimed I had prevented her
From being who she really was
And she would now cast me
As something I am not.
She said I had held her back
And that it was me who now
Would be left standing in the past.

She lowered the davit,
Cut the manila rope
And the distance between us
Became wider than I can remember.
Slowly (although in no time at all)
We fell away
Fell out of reach
Fell out of sight
Then out of range,
Until it became unclear
Who was leaving who
And it made me wonder…
Did we ever sail
In the same sea at all?

Copyright Marc Hawkins
Marc Hawkins Sep 2017
Like time
And the surety
Of the ocean tides,
The solar heat
Fades to evening’s
Chilly air,
And the approaching
Night’s early dusk
Signifies the arrival
Of autumn months,
Noted by
Changeable skies
Of sun and rain,
From blue to grey
Then blue again,
Shadows cast long
As if leading the way.

The sea lies mill pond still
Reflecting like tinted glass,
The lull before
The inevitable storm.
In this, a coastal town,
The sea will crash
And hooligans dash
Hurling skiffs
From sea to dry land,
Moveable sands,
Carrying it
To winter retreats.
Dredged and churned,
The rattled seabed
Throws up plankton and urchin
On which fish will be fed.

Tomorrow the storm will subside,
Another day shall pass
Bringing unscheduled
Hues and shades,
Calm ocean
To crashing waves;
As daylight fades
And the line where sea meets sky
Becomes once again vague,
Painting hazy orange to red
To lilac reflections,
Seeping forward
From the new horizon.
Giving way to the song of gulls
The dying sound of windy squalls,
But, now, twilight blankets all around
In October tones as the dark night falls.

Copyright Marc Hawkins 2017
Marc Hawkins Sep 2017
Marshall been
A naughty boy
He stole away their
Fun and joy

Marshall say
It was not him
But we know where
Bad Marshall been

Marshall caught
With hands of red
They think to quilt
His unmade bed

Marshall seen
By witness four
And from the woodwork
Came four more

Marshall dragged
Before the court
Judgement fair
In there was sought

Marshall faced
With evidence
He soon to serve
Fair recompense

Marshall charges
Brought did read
That Marshall
Stole for selfish greed

Marshall though
Not stole for greed
He stole for babies
Mouth to feed

Marshall stole
For heat and warmth
To protect babies
From the storms

Marshall losing
And losing
Precious family

Marshall sees
His big mistake
The thought for he
Too hard to take

Marshall make
A run for door
So swift he
Glide across the floor

Marshall make it
To the beach
The rozzers hands
Him out of reach

Marshall say
“Ok, ‘twas me”
Then Marshall
Threw he self in sea

Marshall then
Get washed away
He not been seen
Not since that day
Marc Hawkins Sep 2017
Illuminated in the mist
By streetlight glow,
Her whole enveloped
In halo,
His hand
Reaching through
And touching her
Mist damp cheek.
She rests into his palm
Then straightens
And stares outwards,
Eyes drawn to the edge
Of the lit canopy
Where light meets dark,
Where uncertainty awaits.
Closed eyes, memories dance,
Tears well and fall.
All that they were
Has ended here…
The culmination
Of a love lived
With cloaks and daggers,
Secret trysts and alibi lists
And, now, fatally lost.
One last kiss,
Him turning,
She, closed eyes,
Can bear no witness.
No words spoken,
Just silent gestures,
Only fading footsteps heard.
Deep breath,
One last look
As temptation strikes,
His shadow becoming one
With darkness.

She, left alone
Turns and walks away
Knowing that come sunrise
This umbrella of light,
This cold grave of dead affection,
Will be engulfed by the day
Rendering it invisible,
Taking their impression with it

Copyright Marc Hawkins 2017
Marc Hawkins Sep 2017
The slow creak of the house
As the wind blows
Through cracked glass
And keyholes,
Whistling like an
Ancient psalm,
A comforting disruption
To uninspiring calm.
I glance into
The expanse of nothingness,
It seems vast in this unlit room.
I whistle a one note trill
Into the pitch dark womb
And await it’s echo
To return and to spark,
To disrupt the still
Membrane air,
To ignite and to burn,
To flash and to flare,
To define vignette corners
That became lost in the night
Though I have no fear or fright
Of what the night brings.
I am man, I am dog,
I am many things
And by the power invested
In my full beating heart
I shall rank and file
And my musings compart
To dispel
The throws and
Disruptions that
I myself contrived,
That part that likes
To mock and jibe,
That undesirable,
Unwelcome side

Copyright Marc Hawkins
Marc Hawkins Sep 2017
She came to me
In a morphine haze,
All mousy hair
And summer dress,
The fresh smell of air,
Her smile radiating out,
Magnetic eyes
Drawing me in.
No sinister love
Around here to be found.
I float three feet off the ground,
Hospital mattress
My monkey cloud
On which I drift.

And I drift
Into gentle vision,
Into peaceful sound.
She touches heart,
Warm hands
On ice cold block,
And she thaws me
Through this state
Of unknown fortune,
Tempts me back
Into the land of the living
Whilst leaving me,
With no uncertainty,
That when I awake
She will be gone.
She denies me the choice
Of staying here with her,
But happy, at last

Now, I have no
Recollection of her face
Though I know
She was beautiful,
I have no sense
Of her touch
Though I know
It kept me alive.
I am left with
A deep sense of love,
And that, at times,
Is enough

Copyright Marc Hawkins 2017
Marc Hawkins Sep 2017
Words spoken plainly
Now ignored.
After thirty years of habit
He stirs at 5.15 every AM…
After thirty years of habit
She does not stir
But sleeps through.
Words spoken, no longer plainly
But forced with effort,
Patience used.
Him, blind to her frustrations.
A broken necklace,
A torn handkerchief .
A housewife’s muzzled huzza
To husband ignored -
Her way of pretending
Everything is ok,
The only effort from either
To just get on with it,
To get by,
To wait it out.
But still…
Life goes on.

Copyright Marc Hawkins 2007
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