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Peter J Jun 2020
Day 1
I heard that you’re not well
should I ask after your well being
is it appropriate to enquire whats wrong
Is it something that I’ve done
beside myself with worry.

Day 2
I should pluck up the courage to ask you
so many thoughts wind round and round
my mind floods from guesses
is it something that I’ve said
besides myself, beside myself

Day 3
Nearly messaged you today
wrote my message with purpose
and guile
but my words seem so empty I decide
not to post
beside theres always tomorrow

Day 4
Still no sign of you
picture you everywhere in everything
there among fallen stones and shadows
I attempt to remove this debris
besides ruin strewn around

Day 5
I can hear the emptiness inside me
I’m irritated by the simplest things
Frustrated by the meagerest challenge
Upset from the hurtiest comment
beside my nail scratched limb

Day 6
Check my mail every 10 minutes
Then every 5 minutes
Every opportunity
Adaptest, even before time
Besides making progress in to nothing.

Day 7
Started talking to myself
Questioning every motive
Reasoning it makes no sense at all
Go back to the beginning
Beside an ocean of lost hours

Day 8
The night nears
I long for her voice
Words that fold on my plagued hours
Her shaped long voice
Beside my listening ear

Day 9
Then thunder came
No lightning my eyes firmly closed
then rain leapt from the sky
This mixture of water and roar
Beside all in to all.

Day 10
The day I’d seen a rainbow
Had it lurched from chankling chains
Dazzling under the corpse of another
It returned from where it sprung
Besides its bridal beauty calmed a sea.

Day 11
An endless beginning of work
Do you feel me beneath my charms
Break it down again and again
Work and time combines to weaken
Beside my grab filled failed hands

Day 12
Today has been like all those before me
Instant recollections of both now and then
Sea'd love affair beneath it's blued water
Not apart then, yet afar now
Beside you when taken in.

Day 13
Swansea has a marvel about it
Sitting here high up on cliff face
Below lovers warmed, embraced in arms
While waves rise and fall from nothing
Besides waiting for its fullest moon.

Day 14
This day proceeding the man faced moon
Was a Saturday nothing day
Nothing todo nothing to say
And all day long its cold long sigh
Beside the Sun plumed with fierce cut.

Day 15
Another Sunday, a boneless, bodiless day
she but a half remembered marriage  
meadowed larked, alone and still
not even the lure of bells that greet with open arms
Besides incestuous tales of where she lies.

Day 16
Touch across a smile only years could change
I wish to know that smile again
Then I think that perhaps it doesn’t bleed
It doesn’t flow from her, nor feel the pain
Besides its pinch has my blood , my salt.

Day 17
Then days turns to night on this earth and sky
Where the wider the days, the slower it's clock
That feeling it could **** out your heart
And time kills you slowly leaving you undead
Beside another day trading for an eye.

Day 18
Such an improvident day on everyones earth
News stories on death staggered bones
Where every morning I shy away from its notice
And all along I hear its calling in my long walk
Besides you who tricked with quickness of hand.

Day 19
Saturday oh Saturday in all its desolation
It breaks your flesh with imperative ease
Of love, of life ingrained with cemented skin
and wishing through my cough timed track
Beside being under its weather and actions head.

Day 20
Its festival day on a hushed Sunday
Buntings and balloons dance in doubled shade
as the long dead tangled in their long bones
lie in deep graves curtained by shabby stone
Beside the bell that lures ageing quartered veins.

Day 21
Monday brings a sweet showered memory
I stand wrapped in all its wonder
And water washes away this innocent flower
That doesn’t bare grief nor hide its falseness
Besides where else could I mock its falseness

Day 22
One more day of the world wearing down
Another sand grain falls sharply from life’s timer
The benefit of sleep is lost upon me
I tire from agitation and rejection
Beside my open eyes and senses, shut tight

Day 23
Oh this book of faces and meaningless quotes
Is all the poorer from your absence
Am I forgotten, if this is so then all the hunger I feel
from my hungered belly and hell born suitor
Besides everything else, thats beside everything.

Day 24
The Sun bares down and burns the skin
Upon my face and head
My face looks up and shames that sun
That left me oh so red.
Beside me the cream that cools my skin.

Day 25
Out of confusion as the way it always is
I find this day lacks substance of any sort
The Rooks gather feverishly in a blackened sky
While my bright brassed prime shines so prominently in its nature
Besides little comes from my sweet lies aplenty

Day 26
There’s little more on this day than just saying
Its not enough to ease the pain and stuff it's wound.
On this last day of my 61 year
all I owe in a world of wing and cries turn to ash
Beside the time where all love beds and coral wait.

Day 27
Today is my birthday
#today is that day
Peter J Jul 2018
On flat bank’s where
grass runt reeds grow
waiting for rising tide,
A lone Heron stealths silently
while Gulls cry warning, and dive effortlessly in to a cold sea air.
Pheonix  Peanut and Pandora
stranded on wet mud bank,
wait for their chance to escape
but it’s bonds that need to be severed in their quest for freedom.
Estuary lights dim and flicker in the distance while closer to shore Mermaids sing on the breath of a storm.
Beckoning sailors "come ride the waves"
Siren songs of lost souls and shadows
“Come with us” on this bursting sea.
And they sing with a drowning charm
as fishermen launch vessels under a shawl covered wife's watchful eye.
And yesterdays widows weep, face rained bright from navigational lights.
Ships bell ring in time with a rollicking sea,
Pheonix  Peanut and Pandora
still await their escape but not this night.
While the Heron has long fled this great swell.
No cries now from gulls nor mothers hurrying their little ones to the safety of their coal fired warm homes.
Just the rage of wave riding mermaids that will have their bounty
the heart and souls from a fisherman life.
#Something I dotted down while sat under the brown Laugharne castle gazing  out to sea.
Peter J May 2018
Hands ache from this wintered breeze
As a gentle lament drifts sweetly
among the swaying reeds of the estuary.

May comes without the drifting sand of summer.
And loving words are lost upon
the sound of voice and ruins.

I was never afraid of the dark.
Until the night
I noticed how dark it was
#when you’ve nothing better to do.

— The End —