ANH - Hello Poetry

ANH Jul 2013

You are four hundred and forty-six miles away
from me.
Four hundred and forty-six miles over
rivers, mountains, a country border,
over great London fist and Glasgow knot,
all passed by in the second it took
for your words to reach me
and the power of words
hits me like a big red double decker bus
and I wonder if it hits you
at least as hard as a can of Irn-Bru
and as Big Ben shakes the city
I think about how time is a greater barrier
than distance could ever be
because you are four hundred and forty-six miles from me
but yesterday you were only fifty centimeters away,
the distance of my eyes from the laptop screen.

"Wine comes in at the mouth
And love comes in at the eye"
-- W. B. Yeats

ANH Jul 2013

Games

We oscillate in time,
in this tormented game we play
our minds begin to sublime;
we oscillate in time,
our hearts beating in prime,
as you leave, I stay -
we oscillate in time
in this tormented game we play.

ANH Jul 2013

Perspective

I feel like I should do something important
to achieve some important result
to feel like I had done something worthwhile
rather that sitting here with nothing
but a bookmark a few hundred pages in
and a screen littered with metawritten words that don't rhyme
put in some sequence to represent
the flowing of my thoughts
some uneven syllable arrangement
I want structure like a new London building
where the glass is black and unresponsive to the onlooker
but from inside
from inside the world is clear and unbroken
apart from the seams where the glass meets
apart from those small strips of darkness
because why merely wish for perfection?

ANH Jul 2013

Love encroaches:

a well-starved leech on my
mind. An ore beating
through the tumultuous sea of
my stomach. I struggle to reach
reach out
and
lift
lift myself
to
freedom, upon that boat -
oh, almost so… tangible;
oh, almost a light at the end…
The boat pushes faster,
h
harder,
the waves licking desperately at
it’s splintered hull for just
just one
one taste
one salt-splaying,
spliced
taste
…at the end of this disembowelled
sewage pipe called love.

ANH Jul 2013

Consequence of You

You are head on knees
arms 'round legs
tears on jeans.
You are sleepless nights
restless dread
dang'rous dreams.
You close the book
and come unhinged
to see it shut.
You light the candle
and stare until
you burn it out.
You are torn out hair
empty glass
bloodshot eyes.
You are fading thin
losing faith
no surprise.

— The End —