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 Aug 2015
Peter Cullen
Sitting in the high grass,
praying as the sky turns grey.
Waiting for the cargo,
nervous eyes upon the waves.
Everything invested,
every shilling,
every crown.
His heart
is in his salty mouth.
On the cliff
as he looks down.

His eyes look to the lighthouse.
It's beam
they follow
out to sea.
He holds her locket
in his hands,
prays again,
"just let it be."

But this time,
prayers aren't answered.
The whistling wind,
begins to rise.
He opens up the locket,
stares and cries
into her eyes.

Alas, it is all over now.
He knows
that he cannot return.
The ebb and flow
is angry,
and he wonders
will he ever learn?

The bodies on the rocks below,
signal the sad end.
As lights appear upon the shore,
his dreams start to descend.
Into the rain.
Into the gales,
that blow on Bantry Bay.
He throws the locket to the wind.
Once more now,
upon his way.
 May 2015
Peter Cullen
They'd call her Long Gone Sally.
A lost ship, that has long since sailed.
They knew she had a heart of gold,
but still they'd tease
they'd cause her pain.
Yet still she'd face the darkness.
A lighthouse on a lonely chair.
Something you could focus on,
something, that is always there.
The loneliness
The sorrow.
The way we try to stem the tears.
All written on her ageing face.
A face well weathered from the tears.
Poor old Long Gone Sally,
will she ever really find?
The love that melted everything,
the love that breaks,
the heart,
the mind.
 Nov 2014
Peter Cullen
Her voice it reaches into me,
hooks me like a desperate fish.
She's singing songs of Ireland,
such a saucy creamy dish.

Seafood chowder by the sea,
a sense of you, a sense of me.
All the things we're gonna see,
everything we're gonna be

Out the window, rolling waves,
rolling round upon the floor.
Her mind is like a hidden cave,
leaves me craving, wanting more.

The wind, the rain,
our twisted brains.
The way she moves,
the way she sways.
Lost within Octobers days.
Lost with every word we say.
 Oct 2014
Peter Cullen
Some leaves fall before their time,
others falling with this rhyme.
Synchronized inside my mind,
everything at one with time.

The breeze which sweeps the forest floor,
the will, the want, the joy of more.
The knowing, that what's right will lead,
to everything we really need.

Like the seasons, passing on.
Each with reason.
Each with song.
Words lost with the fading light,
as me and you walk through the night.
 Jul 2014
Peter Cullen
I want to help humanity
yet I can't even help myself.
A child born to this greedy hell.
A product of this hungry race.
Where to take has been made easy,
without question, without words.
Taught to grab, without thought,
from a dying world.

I want to find humility,
a voice that rings with truth.
A truth that sings in everyone
deep within our roots.
Deep within the eyes that see,
the thoughts that form our words
I want to live where we are free,
in a brand new world.
 Jul 2014
Peter Cullen
This old soul brought back to learn,
to live with joy,
to live with pain.
This old soul's alone again.

Seeking out the light in shadows,
cast over from the old divide.
Swallowed in waves of emotion,
castaway among'st the tide.
Ego bashed, within an inch,
within a moment of each life.
This old soul and new beginnings,
reaching for the other side.
 May 2014
Peter Cullen
I remember social standings
stood standing on my own
My face all red and flustered
as I'd fidget with my phone.
And all it would have taken,
was a few kind simple words.
To break those chains of *******
to return me to the world.
Us humans we're a strange oul race
we all like to fit in,
and with our pack mentality
it's all about the win.
But what about those on the edge
the souls you choose to fail.
What is it, you think they feel
as you turn away.
See people carry things around
like weights around their neck
So please be understanding
and show them some respect.
Do onto them, all that you would
like done onto your own.
Meet them with a friendly smile,
or call them on the phone.
That call could make a difference
more than you'd ever know.
For its not really hard to care............
It helps us all to grow.
For its not really hard to love............
Its not that hard to show.
 Apr 2014
Peter Cullen
Never forget a friendly face,
but with names, I always seem to fumble.
So many tribes and different callings
in this concrete plastic jungle.
But sometimes people leave behind,
a common thread,
a word that's kind,
that resonates inside our minds,
its those folk that I need to find.
The varied ways we live our lives
shall always find a port of call,
see there's so many souls that shine,
and then there are the ones that fall.
Between the cracks, between the creases,
those uncomfortable places where hope sings
are never tempered without reason,
this is just the way it seems.
Yes this is just the way it seems,
all living with awoken dreams.
Yes this is just the way it seems,
for life is but a pebbled stream.

This is just the way it seems.

— The End —