The poppy field stirs
as spring breezes graze the silence
sending birds to flight
Hush, do you hear them?
a thousand souls that cried for home.

All men wear white crosses here,
the rows glisten
standing straight and tall against the sky
Shoulder to shoulder
finally at one with peace.
There will be no reveille as dawn breaks
No call to arms for these brothers of battle.
Only quiet remembrance.

I travel roads of deep despair,
chasing a shimmer of hope on the far horizon, forever out of reach, it's  sullen beauty lingers at dusk, calling
yet never yielding to my touch.
Time sleeps within the darkness
it stretches and wanes within waves of poison doubt
speaking my conscience
killing the last of me.
Knowledge presents itself slowly
that caustic drip
an ancient thirst
to  covet moons.

When the mockingbird she sings no more
and all her scars are healed
she will give in to honest hope
as love, it is revealed
will slowly mend her broken wings
and set her off to soar
no more to feel the loneliness
that filled her every score.

Come let us shake off our heavy clothes
down by the river where no one goes
fears will be falling like dominoes
where this is leading no one knows.

Swim with the fish and the dragonflies
clouds are reflecting in your blue eyes
swim against the tide, we can only try
evening will come to pass by and by.

Come let us join up our weary hands
tell tales of treasure and foreign lands
here in the water we'll play our parts
leading the charge with our beating hearts.

Come let us shake off our heavy clothes
down by the river where no one goes
fears will be falling like dominoes
where this is leading no one knows.

I long for still and silent sleep
'neath rugged stone and pretty flowers
to lay in peace at turmoils end
as larks sing by the passing hours.

I do not long for mourners tears
nor wringing hands to mark my loss
Just quiet song to lift me up
from where I lay beneath the moss.

And once my soul has flown it's last
and bid farewell to those held dear
I'll whistle through the summer breeze
with joy that I'm no longer here.

My skin is but a map of scars
a journal of all the times I have betrayed myself.
Raw emotion settles in silver lines
multiplying with every breath taken
in fear and rage at my reflection.
I write meaningless lines in hope of cure as I carry the weight of their shame. I let them go, to travel into the ether in hope of reply, of friendship, of hope that I am sometime seen. A doppelganger of my former self, I writhe and spit lines at shadows, the longing too deep to name, my loneliness a constant echo within the barrens of my mind.

There upon the foamy waters
boats rock with silent ease
all about reflects the sky
forget me not blue
stretches the miles.
Hushed I watch the majesty
of simple lives
Under the toil of the sun
boatmen sing their nets ashore
shimmering with life
as though the dawn itself were caught
within
a single bell, chimes skylark sweet
keeping time with the rhythm of all.
Calling home calloused hands
to pretty parlours
where rest and the devil take hold.