Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Bill Higham Aug 2016
and that one man
stuck there in the middle
of that no man's land
that abattoir
that circus
walking round in a ring
and falling down
stumbling round in a ring
and falling down
till somebody
put a bullet through his head
Bill Higham Apr 2016
the joyful indolence of a summer's day,
the siesta lull which wakes
to a slow pushbike ride,
or momentary lapses into conversation
under the shade of the banyan tree
Bill Higham Apr 2016
You cannot touch her,
Tread quietly,
As she overlooks you with her straightened jaw.

Her proud eyes,
Waiting for the moment when your strength gives in,
And opened up,
She plunges into your depths.

Yes - She has seen you before,
As she carries back out of your darkness,
The little light,
And the moisture that was your love.

She laughs,
Dropping them onto the floor, and
With her own,
More delicate hand,
Reframes herself on the wall.
Bill Higham Apr 2016
You move everything which
Is most intimate in me,
Without touching,
You hold up candles
But I stumble in their light,
Without thinking,
You cut deep chasms in my mind,
Without knowing, you test me.

And I love to play servant
Under your stubborn gaze,
You trick me then laugh,
But a piece of my heart
Leaps over backwards.
You make me the hero
Which my mind then adores,
You make me strong like the river,
You make me.

Our two minds are touching
Outside of this world,
I have known you completely,
When you were the gold coin
I was its beggar,
When you were the wind......

You move like a panther
Escaped from its cage,
I meet you on corners and freeze,
My mind like a compass
On top of a magnet,
My legs like a tree.

You hollow my eyes
And fill them with wax,
Your wick always burns
But you never go bang,
For me. I wait by your fire
But you never give heat,
I swallow your swords
But you stay in your seat,
I give you flowers
But you want weeds.

I love you.
Bill Higham Apr 2016
This is the flower
Which you lay upon,
And this is the vase
Which I put it in,
These are my thoughts for tomorrow,
Here are your clothes,
Take them.

This is the tree
Of the winter leaf,
And this the train
That won't stand still,
These are my fingers bitterly cold,
Here is your heart,

This is the castle,
And this the rock,
This is the river
That can't be crossed,
This is a jar and there are the tears,
Here is a clock
To count the years.

This is a picture,
And there's the sun,
This is a pillow
To pray upon,
These are the stones that cross the sea,
There is your future,
Bill Higham Apr 2016
Blessed love of mine,
Blasted is the wind tonight,
Take me, Hold me,
Blessed love of mine,

The half moon, Bright,
Grins malisciously, Ferry me,
Upon an open arm
Into your harbour wide.

Until the storm is over
And calm again this cruel sea,
Blessed love of mine,
Take me, Hold me.

Wash the salt away
Which bites and pierces this ****** wound,
Cleanse the wrecked soul rolling
In the savage swell.

Blessed, Oh blessed tonight,
Blasted is the wind,
Blessed love of mine.
Bill Higham Apr 2016
The gloo, gullet, bottle
Of the bubbling sea
With its waves and the wind spreading out.
The sea - its sparse immensity,
Which rounds the headland heading home,
And hungry - my body,
Which slips into its liquid cool,
With a twisting, turning, arc 'n curve,
As i go under,
Where the white-fibred shadows
Of the cerebral dance of sunlight
Flit the sandy floor,
Where i scrape the barrel of the ocean's bones,
The grit and gravel,
Then the bursting lungs
Falling out on the evening air,
In love,
With the silent walker's seashore path,
The trailing dog, and the city lights.
Next page