Rupert Pip: Poems

197 · Jan 2019

ugh

Rupert Pip Jan 2019

ugh

When did I become
a spectator of this?
The absolute agony
of aching for bliss.
It shudders my skin
like a whispering wind.
But I’m not sure
if I’m still here.

I long for life’s most
beautiful things.
Love, at last
without the strings.
Smiles and sparks;
a soul that sings.
But I’m not sure
if I can breathe.

You see, I try to fly
but I just can’t win.
A bird that strains
with clip on wings;
chained to the Earth
with deranged beliefs
and a heart that’s lost
without relief.
grief.

#grief #pain #hurt #lost

194 · Mar 8

Talk of Spring

Rupert Pip Mar 8

Talk of Spring

It wasn’t just the leaves that died over winter
A part of me fell to the earth too
My hair has started tying knots
My car is choking rocks
Falling away, decay.

The whole world upside down
perished, frozen winter ground
LED sunlights,
early nights
Falling away, decay

But God gave us Spring
and all good things showed their face
With gentle serendipity
and a tranquil sensibility
It’ll all just be okay.

Leaves come back to arm their stations
flowers grow in all locations
Sunlight blessed the freezing minds
The beautiful life where preside
It’ll all just be okay.
It’ll all just be okay.

#spring

186 · Mar 2020

Peace time amongst the trees.

Rupert Pip Mar 2020

Peace time amongst the trees.

Let me float as our lives
break the mould of plastic lies,
and brought me back to
open fires.

A glimpse of life,
the star scattered night,
laid flat out right in nature’s shrine.

What is this strife without
the fight? But in nature
we will confide.

Between the leaves of
ancient trees; distant
worlds with no concrete.

**** the life of roadside
dreams. Let’s sing for
worlds of hope and peace.

Between the busyness of western life, there are fields full of life yet to be explored.

#love #nature #life

36 · 1d

and so goes on the days

Rupert Pip 1d

and so goes on the days

and so goes
       on the days
where my eyes brood
       over clock hands
where my body melts
       into a leather chair
and my heart just
       yearns and yearns for life.

were all those books
      we loved just fiction after all?
or is there more
      really out there?
somewhere amongst
      skyline towers
where the air is thick
      with smoke
and the grass
      grows greener
or whatever.

up on this
     melancholy hill
i’ll watch the
    clock’s limbs waltz
and life just
    slowly fade away
through sad words
    in smudged ink.

— The End —