At once you feel it! Stop! Perform an about turn
Something behind you! Into your back its eyes burn
You shiver and shake; rub the hairs on your arms
No-one there but the goose bumps; the sweat on your palms

Carry on walking. Swift; humming out loud
Desperate now to find yourself deep in a crowd
You are sure you can hear it. A breath. A refrain
Who is it? Who follows you home once again

It has happened before. In fact quite a few nights
A shadow appears in the glow of streetlights
It is gone by the time you shuffle up; when you dare
Where’d it go? Did I see it? Was it ever even there?

Put it down to exhaustion. A trick of your mind
The tiredness. The *****. The crap daily grind
The work. Family; stress. It is driving you mad
Makes you see things not there. You’re so ****** sad

We all have our demons. Horrors; creatures run wild
Dreamed up monsters we’ve nurtured since we were a child
But monsters don’t exist here. Bold; out in real life
They are fantasies! Just stories. Imaginations run rife

Silly idiot. You’re stupid; get a sodding grip
And you laugh at your crazy as you feel yourself trip
Something was there! It got you! Hear a grunt or a bark
It drags you kicking and screaming deep into the dark

©pofacedpoetry (Billy Reynard-Bowness 2018 – All rights reserved)

Bring to me your broken down
Your rattling and cracked
Send me all your fractured hearts
The pains; the sprains and smarts

Deliver to me your wounded
Your tortured mentally alone
Pass to me your elderly infirm
The babies born before their term

Rush to me your weak of will
Your dependant; addicted and lost
Blow to me those down on their knees
The drunk. Morose. Self-inflicted injuries

Laugh with me at human things
Your odd accidents and stories
Triage with me as I tend the wound
Make you better than the you I found

Present to me your desperate
Your shattered and your morbid
Breathe with me as surgery makes well
Exhale! On my skill your fate befell

Lay on me your one in three
Your canker’d and your wretched
Move to me those at end of time
When curtain falls on final pantomime

Please bear with me when times get hard
When I slip up and make odd mistake
Pray for me at seventy. No dotage; still I strive
So proud to play my part in keeping you alive

Raise thanks with me for visionary
My creator; father Aneurin Bevan
Have patience with me when I seem slow
Many patients to see in daily ebb and flow.

©pofacedpoetry (Billy Reynard-Bowness 2018 – All rights reserved)

A shiver creeps right through the house
Searching hard for a spine so to tingle
It scuttles and darts around like a mouse
Hunting just for the right soul to single…

Out for its attention. Upon which to blow
That cold icy breath; to make shudder and shake
The one that it settled on never will know
Why they felt such a fear when not even awake

For it found them and used them
Wrapped and smothered their skin
Pricked and tickled their body during deep REM
A dream frigid and sharp and as bitter as gin

Oh the terror it gets you however you try
Shoots hard up your back as the strongest of shingle
The worst thing about it is you never know why
With your deep darkest fears it’s determined to mingle

©pofacedpoetry (Billy Reynard-Bowness 2018 – All rights reserved)

In the Boondocks of the Ozarks
Salty caramel smelt of August
Swathes stench of rotten trailer parks
Imprisons barren mid-west dust

Feral fevered kids a hunting
For to cool; shoot up, or drink
Arthritic railroad; tie and shunting
Ferrous old town wretched on the brink

Since the cease of mine and logging
Depletion of iron lead and zinc
Nag horse too dead for flogging
Folks futures draining down the sink

Some respite in the summer heat
RV’s; tourists and campers for trails
Like blackfly plague pick off the meat
Fly fast; escape as another harvest fails

Dark currents pepper darker mood
Intolerance grinds in the daily way
Resentment bread as only food
At someone’s door the blame shall lay

In the graveyard of the Ozarks
Rednecks dance on industry tombs
Burn brown smoke spice. Moonshine sparks
Oblivion; no life. Back to mothers' womb

©pofacedpoetry (Billy Reynard-Bowness 2018 – All rights reserved)

"The daily grind is so hard"
He whined
"Work and raising kids isn’t easy"
She opined
"Deirdre got your promotion"
He snitched
"I heard Dave got yours?"
She *******
"I hate this **** job"
He sighed
"So look for another"
She cried
"Maybe tomorrow"
He lied
"You'll do it one day"
She lied
“Stop tapping your foot”
He snapped
“Stop looking at her”
She flapped
"What's for tea?"
He assumed
"Why ask me?"
She fumed
"Can't believe it's only Monday"
He moaned
"If I hear that again..."
She intoned
"Shall we get a takeaway?"
He enlightened
"Oh, I love you"
She brightened
“Love you too”
He cooed
“Kisses to you”
She blew
"See you tonight, love"
He winked
"You will, my lover"
She pinked

Midday watercooler meeting
Frosty silence skin broken
Domestic warfare so fleeting
Morning car row forgotten
Like work-a-day sheep
At end of day meet, then
Takeaway, home, sleep
Up tomorrow, do it again

The couple who work, rest and play together...

©pofacedpoetry (2018) Billy Reynard-Bowness - All rights reserved

Life is a dream.


In dreams’ we exist...


For in dreams...


We sense
      We see
We hear
      We feel
We taste
      We smell
We fear
      We love
We lust
      We loathe
We triumph
      We fail
We fall
      We climb
We fight
      We laugh
We cry
      We try
We run
      We stop
We hit
      We hug
We bite
      We kiss
We sleep
      We rest
We sing
      We scream
We are hopeful
      We lose hope
We gasp
      We breathe
We hold it
      We cherish it
We hold tight
      We let go
We remember
      We forget
We live
      We die


And it is life...


It really is…


It is reality...


We exist...


In dreams...


Awake!


©pofacedpoetry (2018) – Billy Reynard-Bowness – All rights reserved

MINESTRONE NIGHTS (on the summer of 2018)  
              
Deep in the incubus of fantasy
As torrid painter makes its art
Rips a flash of an epiphany
A plaintive whisper of the heart
Hobgoblin summer full of slobber
Beget febrile reveries unkind
As dance character’s macabre
A three-ring circus in my mind
Each minestrone moldy night
When body craves boreal slumbers
Akin cat on hot tin roof I fight
Dank sog my sleep encumbers
Comes morn aft time eternal
Half charged at start of day
Abscond sodden dreams infernal
Tormenting orb is up to play
I was hot before I even knew
Never really did cool down
Too warm again, for morning dew
Vague slumber’d avec frown
Haven't slept for an age or eon
Cadaver tacky to the tepid touch
Arise, trepid to perspire, like peon
Labour in this broil is just too much

©pofacedpoetry (Billy Reynard-Bowness 2018 – All rights reserved)