As I came to the edge of the woods,
Thrush music—hark!
Now if it was dusk outside,
Inside it was dark.

Too dark in the woods for a bird
By sleight of wing
To better its perch for the night,
Though it still could sing.

The last of the light of the sun
That had died in the west
Still lived for one song more
In a thrush’s breast.

Far in the pillared dark
Thrush music went—
Almost like a call to come in
To the dark and lament.

But no, I was out for stars;
I would not come in.
I meant not even if asked;
And I hadn’t been.

Nights are filled with the harsh winds of winter,
The darkness from dusk to dawn toyed with you,
Lights are dimmed but shine as you re-enter;
Eyes filled with tears as wet as morning dew.

You fall onto the bed, your heart is aching,
I stand there not knowing how to fix this,
Silence fills the room, you are breaking;
You go numb, I give you a final kiss.

As I shut your eyes... I cry out to you,
The once silent room is now filled with screams,
My world without you is a dark grey hue;
My life is to be ripped all at the seams.

I must end it all to be with my love,
Heartbreak can ****, I will see her above.



                                     t.h.

I stopped waiting by the phone
I stopped pressing my glass to the wall
straining for vicarious sound
I stopped waiting for distraction
to prevent me getting bored

I am alone
I am alone
but feel loneliness
only when I feel I ought to
The rest of the time
it is music
or the silence in between

I stopped pacing the floor
as if movement meant
I was doing something

I stopped looking for love
as if desire were the same
as feeling something for someone

As if holding out for change
was as good as holding a person
as if sleeping alone
caused dreams without reason
as if snatches of warmth
gave purpose to the seasons

I stopped collecting forget-me-nots
I stopped bleeding out my liberal heart
every time there was suffering
or hate in the spaces where
love should have been

I stopped waiting for someone
to doctor the still
where sorrow pervaded
the canned laughter of living

I stopped looking for someone
it was only then
I could start forgiving

1420

One Joy of so much anguish
Sweet nature has for me
I shun it as I do Despair
Or dear iniquity—
Why Birds, a Summer morning
Before the Quick of Day
Should stab my ravished spirit
With Dirks of Melody
Is part of an inquiry
That will receive reply
When Flesh and Spirit sunder
In Death’s Immediately—

Words have lost their meaning over time
The more the same phrases are used
Over and over and over again
The less their context matters
Like staring at a word for too long
It becomes nothing
The more we throw meaningful sentiments
Into a grammatical machine
Moulding them into a form
Most befitting
The more inevitable
Their fate
As feed for the fatuous void.

But what if words
Had no meaning in the first place?
Their context absurd
Relative to our personal emotions
We communicate
In perceptions
Condensed down
Into a finite set of sounds and symbols
How strange
We are all subject to this
It is inescapable
Words have our truths caged
Indefinitely.

I could say everything many romantics have already put into words
But that would be lazy and impertinent
Their semantics have dissolved
Worn from view
No matter how many voices
Echo what was once
A truth in history.

For my love, I would cast aside all language
For my soul is constantly dancing to a song
Of melodious candour
My mind wanders
Into his room
So warm and musty
And there
I am held
All at once
Words escape me
No
I escape words.

It is impossible
For you
To comprehend the way you make my heart move
Whenever I am in your company
But it is there
It exists
It is truth
I pray
You feel it too
Because then these phrases
I’ve strung together
Needn’t be spoken.

Poetry lives
To materialise our senses
Here is mine
So let us remove the shackles of our language, my love
And dive naked
Liberated
Into a world
Where only pure intuition resides.