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 Aug 2015
Nathan Squiers
I've always been one for the dimly-lit halls,
The mysterious passages and the potential falls.
I'm not about the risk, though; it's not about the danger.
It's the hope that in the depths I might come upon a stranger.
A stranger with an eye that's seen something I have not;
A stranger with a hand that holds something I haven't got;
A stranger with a rope that will show a new knot.
It's about finding a stranger who can teach me a lot.

I've always been one to seek the lesser known,
To look within the shadows where no light has shown.
I'm not about the darkness; I'm not hoping to get lost,
I'm just hoping for a stranger who will be worth the cost.
A stranger with a pair of lips that tell me unknown tales;
A stranger who's succeeded where many others failed;
A stranger who has navigated all the unknown trails.
It's about finding a stranger who puts the wind in my sails.

My tendencies have earned me a great deal of concern.
I'm told that, should I stray too far, it's unlikely I'll return.
They tell me that my obsession is a danger in disguise--
that seeking out the unknown can lead to one's demise--
But they can't see something new with their old-fashioned eyes,
So while they look down at their feet I'll keep my gaze upon the skies.

What they do not understand and what drives me to my doom,
Is that one should never find themselves the smartest in a room.
One cannot learn all there is; a life can be bettered or it will worsen.
So getting lost isn't so bad if you get lost with the right person.
A good friend of mine inadvertently inspired this with the line that became the title. Based on that (and the desire to prove to them that poetry can stem from any source) I rolled with it.

Hope you enjoy ^_^
Out of the window
a courtyard yawns,
Passion flowers overwhelm
sun-brushed brick

A cat paws a
gutted cassette tape,
whilst pigeons
steal into the
forgotten yard building,
with newspaper windows
and wonky slates

I guess they own
the vestiges of the old
car in there now;
rust on rust on rust
Their own kingdom
in old boxes and older dust.

They aren’t aware,
of the lunacy of it all;
this human race.
People are just
no good to
each other.
Money before morals
before health
before warmth
before kindness
before love
before life.

I envy them,
those
birds-
they only
Have
to worry about
the
   cat.
Oast Cottage, Lamberhurst, Kent

— The End —