Tom Salter

Tom Salter May 2020

and there it is,
her serene hum
so powerful, so beautiful
it commands the world
and he roars back,

and now it's gone,
a mechanical screech
so trivial, so precise
it silences her
and she whimpers away.

Tom Salter May 2020

help.

help.
come rescue my dying mood.
   he's playing in the dirt again.

    digging his way to some dead-end
  for now, he welcomes the filth
    and finds comfort amoungst
      the earthworms for they
are as unhappy as he, lost
in the great mass of the ground
   and once they find their way
out they are eaten, or trodden upon
  oh,  it's not easy being an earthworm
  and my mood understands that,
    they often discuss who has it worse

but in the end it doesn't matter,
  they both find peace eventually.

Tom Salter May 2020

Father Time

Oh, Father Time
how do you dance?
whilst not looking back
but perpetually trudging on
tell me dear old man,
what is the secret to
keeping up with the clock?

Oh, Father Time
why do you never grieve?
but witness everything end
forever lost from your gaze
dear, you must be very lonely
does it bother you when they leave,
or do you not have the patience?

Oh, Father Time
do you ever get tired?
wanting to retire far from here
or do you find joy in all this
all this movement of ideas
and detailed emotions
what would make you quit, my dear?

Tom Salter May 2020

The Kind Oak

He’s seen boys march to war
And hobble back as men
His roots now grow red
In their memory
He’s faced the brittle saw
Of human greed
And once bore
The weight of an empire
Only to watch it fall
As he does
To the selfish axe
His branches
used to
Hang strangers for
Crimes he never
Even witnessed
His leaves whisper
Secrets through the wind
Whistling the tunes
Of forbidden lovers
And mans’ betrayals
His bark fills the playgrounds
Of our children, whilst his own
Are crushed, by the
Unforgiving pressure of mankind
And after all this,
All this pain for no reward
He welcomes
All to call him home.

Tom Salter May 2020

Ben,

dear Ben,
your words keep
me at fascination’s edge
equipped to the brim with
shared memories of dread,
even without all the strings
you still know how to play mine,
so, please dear, give the music
a rest and come sip away
at where we forgot, the
place we left off.

Tom Salter May 2020

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a man, so precious
and violent
caught in between, the
fragile and beautiful,
coerced to sit, waiting,
wings clipped
like the crow, cooped
in a branchless tree,
vulnerable and
dazed, he hopes for
the world to coo,
again.

Tom Salter May 2020

"that's fine"

and i said to her,
"will you tell me please?"

and she said to me,
"you are someone fine
and
free"

i didn't care, anyway.