.
Snow drifts down
     laying a lawn cold sheet
across the frozen ground,
          creating art reliefs
like acid etching glass,
open space rolling and undulating,
in small hills and depressions,
     bedecked in a veil of white.
The silence is deafening,
quiet having been enjoyed
     and surpassed,
briefly punctuated by the call of a bird,
     A sharp whistle that shrieks
and attacks the silence.
The fresh smell of snowfall wafts up
     as it settles and glistens
in the light of silver moonbeams,
randomly peeping through clouds.
The taste of peace,
                     tranquility,
in the frigid air,
sends imagination soaring
from the desolation of isolation
to another time and place.
          The snow falls,
     falls,
in a relentless race for the ground,
               all is still,
               nothing stirs,
as the moor welcomes its quilt
and sleeps with a cold heart,
     dreaming,
                       of being kissed by the Sun.



© Pagan Paul (28/05/18)

I know the toothless women
Who crumple on the streets
The rain bleeds through their cardboard,
The cold drips through their feet

I know the dying children
With anaesthetic arms
The angels crowd around them
With time that burns their palms

I've hugged the brainwashed gangsters
With money drenched in blood
I've heard their broken weeping
While digging up the mud

I've seen the starving faces
Of the tired girls at home
The broken, hectic psyches
That eat them to the bone

I know the burning poets
With a desperate thirst for life
The need for finding soulmates
That pierces like a knife

There's weary public servants
Who risk their lives for good
And prove compassion every day
Yet stay misunderstood

Human love is buried
Beneath the plastic weight
Of angry allegations
And a world that feeds off hate

These people may be messy,
But they're beautiful and real
With hidden dreams and secrets
And ability to feel

We have a place to run to
With lights of peach and gold
Where all the weight is lifted
And all our tales are told

We live in total freedom
So safe beneath the moon
And though it seems ambitious
Our dreams will save us soon

In life I struggle,
To share my feelings with others.
My logical facade,
Is the flimsiest of covers.
Underneath rages a fire of emotion.
I find myself incapable of release.
I find myself living without peace

When I write my heart does the work.
When the pen hits the paper
My emotions escape with a relentless flow.
I spill it all and out it comes.
Waves of feeling that I cannot control.
Rapid flows of pain and joy crashing into one another.

If only I could talk to people like I can to paper.
Maybe then I’d be a better man
Instead of a lost little boy with nobody to hold my hand.

An introduction,
I would allow myself,
No more than that,
Instantaneously captivated by her,
Magnetized,
But I was fighting against gravity.

Knowing the depths of my baggage,
And the density,
Of the fog and noise around me.

I refused to be another stumbler,
Seeking your attention,
I would state my name,
And my awareness,
Of your existence in my universe,
And let the chips fall where they may...

But you made your existence blatantly apparent,
As if our spike in conversation,
Would prevent either of us denying,
A chemical reaction within our words,
Reading between the lines of you.

And now you linger...
Or not so much you,
But the idea of you,
Lingers on my palate.

Awaiting another taste,
Of what it might be like if our worlds,
Were ever again to collide.

Lying embedded in velvet gloom and night,
You and I are gazing up the northern hemisphere.
Within the sea of darkness is the stars' stained light.

Hidden inside the fabric of interstellar space,
Might be a kind of universal truth
That answers all the questions of human race.

Sensing the pull of the universe
I feel like we're lost between the infinite vastness
That none of us could ever dream to traverse.

Suddenly you get up on your knees -
Head in the sky and feet on the ground.
“Perhaps the stars only made us feel lost,
because we both wanted to be found.”