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grumpy thumb Sep 2020
If I could
I'd take your smile
put it away until times weren't kind
I'd add it to the wink you left behind
That would carry me through most anything.

If I could
I'd preserve your kiss
Keep it safe until times of loneliness
Reminds me distance keeps you from me
I'd open the lid and let the touch
Carry me to you
grumpy thumb Oct 2020
I heard geese late last night
off in the distance beyond the reservoir
as I sat in my decrepit shed
where I view the world and all its lineaments.

I envisioned their v trail in a silhouette against a salmon dawn
An arrow soaring to exotic lands somewhere far, far south
though the hour of morn was hours away.

Then later when my pillow welcomed me to rest beside the sleeping warmth of my love
I thought of them and their journey hoping i would travel with them in my dreams,
but I did not
grumpy thumb Apr 2017
Lurking in a sullen snug
hiding away from eyes of the good
except the occasional ones
of a waitress who acknowledges
his order
with a nod
a momentarily glimmer of light
from neon reflecting sparks of life
between exchanges of glasses,
empty for full.
The change lands on the table  
dull as a labour's boots.
Sometimes here he writes
of worlds too fine for spoken words.
In the wakefulness of day
they are crumpled, discarded, shredded and burned.
Who'll listening if he could,
but speak as he wrote?
But there's nought.
grumpy thumb May 2017
Hush,
the day's resting
night's emerging
earth's silently revolving
measurements of time are
peacefully shifting.
grumpy thumb Jun 2018
In the darker place
where a man can be crushed,
taunts haunt
betrayal of trust
each echoed word steps
a ragged booted stomp,
one per breath of rust,
there  
the shackles that restrain
also hold me up.
The negative can be a source of fuel for the positive
grumpy thumb Dec 2016
Into air
her whispering whisped
in unison with
waiting wishes
and prayer.
They gather where
high winds howl in dispair.
Perhaps you've heared her song.
Or joined your hope to its chorus.
grumpy thumb Jun 2017
Is it worse to suffer the crush of immediate rejection
or be haunted by the possible answers to an unasked question?
grumpy thumb Nov 2016
When loneliness comes
you call for another without calling.
When loneliness settles
you pray for someone without blessing.
When loneliness stays
isolation falls like winter's rain
deeply burrowing.
Destitute of humanity
despair comes echoing
when loneliness digs it's moat of disheartened thoughts
you shrivel disponded
cease the point of trying.
When loneliness calls.
grumpy thumb Apr 2016
Here it rests
this shadow of ink
a scratched silhouette
incompetence, I think
gazing upon giants
of then and now
toiling through verses
they've steadily ploughed.
And
I with pen
sit in wings
awed by how their silence sings
wishing not to follow,
but walk among.
But how could my words
ever be sung
when I'm not strong
enough to lift a worthy pen.
For the great poets I will never match.
Guess I better go for a while.
grumpy thumb May 2018
I write, but I am not a poet
I paint, but I'm no artist
I read, but I am no scholar
I have dreams, but I'm not a visionary
I create, but I'm not an inventor
I pray, but I'm far from being holy
I ponder, but I'm not a philosopher
I hate violence, but I'm not a pacifist
I am not unique, but I am uniquely me.
Though there's many things I'd like to change
for now
I just want to be
grumpy thumb Aug 2017
She asked,
"What are you thinking?"
But I was just being
while
staring at the ceiling.

Wouldn't let it go
so an old thought was recycled
about life and an icicle
unsure of the season
and if it knew the ozone was bleeding.
Should it be busy worrying
or thinking,
or carry on simple enjoying
being freezing?

She shook her head, "Honestly, is that the best you got
for me?"
I shrugged and went back to my ceiling
happy and content in the presence of her being
grumpy thumb May 2017
She listens to Kate Bush
on a Sunday morning
looks out on her garden
and the new buds flowering
sipping Earl Gray tea
a spoon of sugar she's stirring
then says to me,
"Bet you wish it was raining."

"How'd you know?"
"'Cause your a child of the rain.
I sense it in your smile,
but I can't explain.
There's a strangeness to your eyes
like a constant pain.
Just thought you should
know what I see."
I think she knows me.
grumpy thumb Aug 2019
The brittle voice of your footsteps on grass
under heavy winds drag
would have went amiss,
but I listened for this
as assurance
our pace still kept in step
crossing the blanket of green
between the trail
of one conversation's lull
and the delicate start
of the next.
grumpy thumb Jan 2016
Went their separate ways,
but hearts are lagging behind
a waltz filmed in black and white
silent screen flickers in their mind
the goodbye a freeze frame
of a desperate time.

Moved on with their lives,
but the dance doesn't feel right
jukebox earning its coin
throwing out a verse with an aching line.
Lost in rhythm they forgot to rhyme.
Can't hear the tune over the crying.
grumpy thumb Dec 2015
Lay me down,
most passionate eyes,
drift to me this eve.
Grace me
in the sanctuary of your depths.
Fall mercifully upon me.
grumpy thumb Apr 2018
Missed a train to look at the flowers
growing wild by the station wall.
So pretty in the daytime,
they shied away come nighttime
leaving me
with nothing at all.

Only had change for one coffee
then I spied a wishing well
Something was wrong
the water was all gone
watched my hopes sink
as the coins fell

A thousand things will lead you astray
from all those things you could've done
if its the risk you choose
you'll probably lose,
but once in a while
I have won.
grumpy thumb Jun 2019
What do we do when the shadow's pressing against our hope
or dragon tails whip our thoughts into a frenzy
when we struggle to walk a straight line
on paths that twist and contort?
How do we ignore the vices and voices
that mock and entice us
or lights that would blind us
from the sight of the righteous?
How do we utter our words to a lover
when doubt trips us to stutter
knowing we should speak better
but the truth is smothered to a mutter
like a snuffed candle's last splutter
or spittle from a kiss interrupted?
grumpy thumb May 2020
Your smile:
the bract
of those petal lips,
there to
attract
the flower of a kiss.
grumpy thumb Sep 2017
Leaf lids fluttering
flirtatiously
leaf lips rustling,
uttering,
puckering under windy kisses. Gazing up through their stainglass limbs
a ****** of nature, but only in admiration, not in the strict meaning or sense.
No, not like that.
Some surrendered to the early flash of autumn colour.
Threw in their lot.
Disconnected.
Gentle deaths,
landing softly
be nothing left of them come spring.
Hope they died "the little death" making love to the wind in their own unique way.
Before humanity distroys them.
Little things, these leaves,
leaving the world and
a fool to wonder.
grumpy thumb Mar 2018
big words can constrict me
leaving little room to wiggle free,
they constrain
unequivocally,
there for show and tell, no doubt!
What can I do with discombobulate
that I can't do with confuse and frustrate?
Or maybe I can postulated
it's just a suggestion
can you relate?
When I say big words,
I meant to say long
cos little words like hope and love have more worth and meaning than floccinaucinihilipilification
Or maybe l'm dumb and use to procrastination
putting off what can be cleverly done.
But if I find a word that's lenghty
and hits the spot just right
I will use it ostentatiously,
or so I might.
Just for fun floccinaucinihilipilification- I can't pronounce it, I've never used it until now and I've no plans on using it in the future. A useless word indeed
grumpy thumb Jan 2019
Stars prickle the darkness
counterpoints to measure its vastness
they steal eyes and gift wonderment  
allow birth of dream and scientific torment
they witness and receive wishes,
they exist yet
many are no longer in existence
the closest is only seen in its loneliness
yearning to shed the veil of blue
grumpy thumb Nov 2018
I'm getting forgetful of late and keep losing things
Just the other day I lost something precious,
if anybody finds it
please you let me know.
I seem to have misplaced my trust.
grumpy thumb Oct 2018
Smudge of light
dim on pavement
made damp by drizzle.
Morning haze softening colours,
smoothing harshness
to pastels unobtrusive,
Extending the awakening dawn
void of witness to the rising sun.
Muted chorus of lark and blackbird
sensing the absence,
forlorn.
grumpy thumb May 2020
The tree's now fleshed out
with leaves
shushing the wind's passion,
                                      'be with me'
moaning sighs to its lover
sway and stretch of torso and limbs
heart pulses
vibrating root deep
                                         'always'
grumpy thumb Feb 2017
The first blushes
of dawn
fragment mascara line silhouettes
of morn.
Powdered breath
caught in light kisses
of fading neon.
A turned up collar's
no substitute
for bed's warmth.
Heavy eyes loll lingering on
fresh passages
of the passing night
And how two bodies lied
to lie together
for a while.
Shadowing secret
hooded lips concealing
nakedly honest smiles
enough to make the dawn blush
grumpy thumb Sep 2020
A mandolin hangs on the wall
sunburst and walnut hinting through dust
unstrung to prevent warping
unstrummed for so long without song.

A temporary perch at first
then time stole its heart lonely without touch
now she gives it the slightest look, dispelling texture and notes
once ment so much.

Though her fingers flicker memories twitch of warm body beneath fretted strings and the race of such
along a neck smooth enough to kiss.

What caused the separation,
the disengagement,
the lack of intimacy?
A musician's instrument
tender as a lover.
Did they fall out of love with one another,
and if so
why hang the reminder above an evening's flaming hearth?
grumpy thumb May 2020
May love find you
for it's blind to those who seek it.
May love's binding
free those from searching for it.
May love's breath
welcome you in its embrace
May love be loved
for its own grace.
grumpy thumb Apr 2017
Caught in the drag of traffic
meandering a.m.
under cataract eyes of street lamps, parallel to shopfronts despondent.
Bleak slate clouds overhang
sullen and brooding with rain
through which we drive
listening to indicators
tutting each turn
as if they witnessed some moment of shame.
the wipers toss aside windscreen diamonds
like
reminders of treasured times
squandered.
An ache without physical pain
We e-rode away.
grumpy thumb Jun 2017
In reflection of minor moments that ended before I had understand or recognition of their value
I stumbled across a time of mine
as a child
scurrying through a park
hurrying to play before the dark
came to take freedom away.
From the corner of my eye
I spied
a wood pigeon
struggling against the snag
of dense ivy vine.
Its leg revealed trapped between
frantic flapping
and panicked call.
I crawled a careful crawl
ignoring thorns and nettle stings
I used to cover my approach.
Reaching out
denying maddened pecks
and talon sctatchs to detour me,
I gently held the bird
between leg and hand
as the other hand tore ivy vine.
Released it sored.
Swift and gone.
The throb of its shaking heart still echoing in my palm
as this memory echoes in my heart.
grumpy thumb Feb 2018
Monday's made for yawning,
watery eyes,
groggy headed morning,
takes two hours and some change
before I'm performing
somewhere close to normal.
I'm not fishing for pity,
but it's still dark when
I reach the city,
yet sometimes its
oh so pretty
when the sun paints it's colours
on you.
See if I manage a week
grumpy thumb Nov 2015
A moon claw of light
ripping thin cloud skin.
Illuminating the thicker swell
with halo bright.
Not enough for stars to perforate and accessorize the night.

One trudging through old mulch
shuffling for a truffle
worth its weight in ink.
Should have looked up sooner,
but who can think
when the gravity of necessity
pressurizes you to remain grounded
and weary eyes to sink.
grumpy thumb Jun 2016
Colours were flattened beneath
a dull stretch of graphite sky.
Its cloak dampened the dimension
of nature's vibrancy,
trapping an uncomfortable
heavy warmth void of wind's sigh.
Birds couldn't manage a chirp
nor dogs a bark.

Weighted limbs sprawled
from lifeless bodies
drained of energy.
Lazy eyes lolled
in attempts to peruse
a tree's limp leaves
in hope of movement
urging them
for a sign of relief.
Those eyes soon retreated
to drift and dream
behind weary lids
which sank
as silently as the absent sun.
One of them heavy days
grumpy thumb Nov 2017
My beautiful sad song
melody knows my soul by now
must of sang it a thousand times
over a thousand miles
and endless trials.
The heaviness of verse sinks me deep
chorus holds me down,
but its air
I can't help but sing,
it knows when to play for me
somehow.
grumpy thumb Dec 2019
Never known an oak to grumble about politics
or a cloud question its faith
never known a worm worried about its looks
or a hedgehog do an early morning walk of shame
never known a pebble craving attention
or a flower seeking revenge
never known a puddle to scream in anger
or a star seeking another to blame
grumpy thumb Jan 2019
A sneaky cheek of moon peeks
through a keyhole cut in the clouds
Kitten curious
I peep back
through the torn veil of night's shroud
grumpy thumb Apr 2019
The crest of the evening swells full in noticeable silence
drawing deeply the last breath of daylight.
It's nearing time for silhouettes to play
and the yawn of night to stretch and keep watch.
grumpy thumb Oct 2015
Not every caterpillar
wants to become a moth or a butterfly.
Not every snowflake or drop of rain
wants to fall from the sky.
Not every petal of every flower
wants to tilt its face towards the sun.
Not every second of every day
wants to die the second it's begun.
grumpy thumb Oct 2018
Walls too high,
too thick
can't dig under it.
doors cemented up,
I can't change that.
Standing outside
barefoot
on cold ground;
gravel's too rugged
to lay down,
shadows cast
a losing lot.
All I got's
a dwindling spark,
yet,
here I am
riveted to the spot.
Stand I or be cripled.
One of us will crumble,
but my will
will not.
grumpy thumb May 2018
It's a quarter past Wednesday,
the coffee's late,
my bag-o-bones is dragging slow.
Heard little bo peep sold her sheep for gin
killing off the nursery rhyme.
Can't decide if that's a bad thing.
Feel like a late planted seed
unsure if it's roots can reach
deep enough to sustain strong growth.
Maybe tomorrow I'll have shoots and a little hope,
or leaves to sooth doubt,
or buds of competence
or fruits of confidence
and a coffee when I need it most.
Yep one of them self awkward days
grumpy thumb Sep 2016
Feel low and lonely
like a cold November dawn
pushed out to the horizon
of your affection.

Hope's weak as a fragile chick
struggling with its shell
trying to shed some light
on your perception

.....of us.
grumpy thumb Sep 2017
Sharpening sticks on stone
preparring for verbal
battles bombs
to be thrown
no cover when lovers
cross the line that was drawn
by a
tripwire slip of the tongue
never meant to be done
though often on the horizon of thought like the cusp of dawn..

War drum
the march
into no-mans-land
from which there's no return.
Forced to make a stand
tackle and defend
now the gauntlet's fallen.
To the jugular attack!
no retreat
no victors
only defeat.
Somethings you can't take back.
Sorry is the poor shield.
It's useless to yield
for the weapon
cuts deepest when wielded
by those we love fiercest.
grumpy thumb Jul 2018
Oh has there ever been a breath such as yours
to tease goosebumps upon my neck as if they were my first?
A breath of passage from deep within lungs that oscillates my blood and heart's pulse?
Oh has there ever been a breath such as yours to carry heavylight words
of love?
Old school
grumpy thumb Oct 2017
Engine oil buried deep as hate beneath my nails.
Won't scrub away
it remains like the mistakes I made.
Not always visible,
but I know it's there all the same.

Old tatt lines blasted as heart ache,
it's hard to follow the ink.
What it represented
now an obscure link
like faded love.
Though in a certain light
it don't look that bad,
or so I tell myself,
but mostly I try not to think.
grumpy thumb Aug 2017
How many mens thoughts have filled up this glass,
how many mens eyes searched your abyss
How many mens lips touched you last.
How many men squandered hours in your repast.
How many mens regrets have come to pass
in the company of you?
grumpy thumb Apr 2017
soft petals of touch
from fingertips slow walk
and feathery glide
along thigh and sides
Traversing
silky skin
in gentle slides.
Their gait
falls and rises.
Tentatively they stride
one careful tip
at a time
Dipping
into the mine
of pleasure,
a treasure
worth journeying
a thousand little miles.
grumpy thumb Jul 2016
The bus threw up it's passangers
street's bustle flushed them away.
He sidestepped a muttering ******
who'd seen better days.
Umbrellas popped open
and hoods pulled up
against the falling rain,
but his thoughts were a staccato of her.

The lure of coffee and pastries
from a deli warmly beckoned all to
stay,
but the hustle of pedestrians
carried him south on his way
towards officeblocks looming ominously
flanking the warf along the edge of the quay,
but his thoughts were of a staccato of she.
grumpy thumb Feb 2017
She's got her headphones on,
can't see further than the magazine pages,
articles about painting nails
and what celebrities said.

He wears his Sunday best.
Pops a pill for heartburn.
Worries about tax returns
and the few pounds he's gained.

But later tonight
their passion will be on the cusp of perfection
the greatest gift they've got
is only for them to know.

She has a wicket mind,
though you'd never think if you met her. She'd drive a good boy wild
and she can sing pretty well too.

He's a creative soul,
though you'd never know if you met him.
Could melt a heart of stone
and can cook a mean chilly too.
grumpy thumb Oct 2016
Leaves me out to graze
wandering aimlessly on fields of
'When are you coming back?'
Left to lap from streams of
'Will you call?'
Just a pathetic pet wallowing in its basket
looking longingly at the door,
hoping every passing noise
is a sign of her.
grumpy thumb Jul 2019
A world away
bridged by a page
only as strong
as the weakest ink
grumpy thumb Aug 2016
In the evening
I heard passers talking
about work that morning;
about numbers and deadlines
and the contracts for signing.
All the while
the evening sky was gifting
salmon wrapped cloud parcels
to the west,
the northeast dimmed
while the shy night hemmed
a starry sequined dress
but the passers only had green
in their eyes
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