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Rob Rutledge Feb 2016
Caught a feeling
Then flew away,
She got on a plane
To the U.S.A
Four thousand miles
Shore to shore,
Ain't much sunshine
Anymore.
Rob Rutledge Jan 2016
She gazed out long and far,
Past half closed curtains  
And dozing, docile cars.
Witness to a world double glazed
Dampened by a passing rain.
Sound drowned still by fragile,
Stained glass pane.

Skies lay grey, like every other day,
Shrubs shrug and trees sadly sway.
She feels for the trees,
(And to an extent the shrub)
They're not so different from you or I.
We all plant roots, grow, love?

Thoughts disturbed by a startled dove,
Flew the coup, done, had enough,
Rose as Icarus toward the sun.
Basked in light of new found freedom.

Never heard the hunters gun.
Rob Rutledge Jan 2016
"All This Too Shall Pass"
The good, the bad,
Twisted looking glass.
Time, it never lasts.
Flags forever at half mast
Fluttering in the breeze.
Fabric clapping half arsedly
While the trees let loose a sneeze.

The moss cares not for you and me
Live and let live, what will be will be.
The air we breath, annals of history.
Truth and make believe.
Keys with no lock or chain,
Concieved in hope.
Born in vain.
Rob Rutledge Jan 2016
I see you in the storm
Of rain lashed eyes,
I feel you in the wind
And tumultuous tides.
I see you in the fire
Splendid tendrils of desire,
I hear you in the songs
Of solemn, mournful choirs.

I found you in the stars
Sat upon the shoulders of Orion.
I found you in the shadows
Another lonesome scion.
I found you in the fall,
Leaves encaptured and enthralled.
The weight of an oceans promise,
The allure of waters call.

Yet for all our senses we couldn't see
The sense of foreboding melancholy.
That which was found in the depths of the sea
You found it all,
All except for me.
Rob Rutledge Oct 2015
We are fragile, little things.
Chipped china teacups
In the hands of careless kings.
Caught in the fall,
Cherry blossom dreams,
The sighs of autumn
Keep us aloft on weathered wings.
Tethered to the will of winds
The water shouts and sings.
Overflowing that fragile teacup,
Scalding the hands of world worn kings
Rob Rutledge Aug 2015
We could have been great,
Oh you and I.
The carpenters of fate,
Carving lines in halcyon skies.
Scar tissue blue
Vapour clouding the eyes.
Bound
To the flight of hyperborean tides,
Mythical winds of the north.
Yet their chill is real
Wrapped in the cloth
Of pride and zeal.
Confide,
While calm in the shaded riverside.
Forever chasing rainbows
Over moors and mountainside.
No cauldrons of gold
Just archaic rocks and stones
Buried by the weight
Of fallen bones.
Rob Rutledge Jul 2015
In a world where wars are fought with Words.
His only weapon was silence.
Standing neither for nor against
A solitary act of defiance.
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