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Ryan Jakes Aug 2014
I hated leaving you there
while your skin is still transparent,
while your steady heart is shaking,
your lungs scarred from silent screaming
and your eyes haunted by the unseen.

You stood waving in the rain
hoping it would drown your tears
and disguise the effort behind your smile.
I drove away, platitudes delivered
and hope left behind to flourish in your care.
You stood waving in the rain and in that moment
your fragile beauty caught my spirit
and all was beyond me.
I hate goodbyes.
Ryan Jakes Aug 2014
A walk on the beach in the morning
is never a simple affair
once the dog is dressed and the kid's on the leash
we leave with the breeze in our hair.
We walk along the shoreline
and watch the changing tide
we clamber over rockpools
where creatures deftly hide.
I'm not a morning person
My brain remains asleep
for at least two hours after
my eyes begin to peep.
So I take in the horizon
with a deep and grateful sigh
while boy and dog go running
off to greet some passers by
the fishermen are chatting
showing them their daily catch
while the dog he begs for something
from the bucket, just a scrap
So the guy picks out a live one
and shows it to the pup
who jumps away quite quickly
treats forgotten, heckles up.
My son he takes a finger
and reaches out to feel
this shining, writhing creature
in a bucket made of steel.
He flinches as it flips it's tail
annoyed that he can't catch it
but it slithers through his tiny hands
and back into the bucket.
We turn our tails and head for home
and talk of what we've seen
the boy says in his grown up voice
lets not have fish for tea.
I remember you well
at the halfway hotel
dusty corduroy ragged
shambling shoes smiling
toothless and untethered.

You, shop door keeper
sidewalk sleeper
a torrent of tall tales
and misery sweet
You, invisible to those
who see beauty 
in possessions alone
while all you possess
hangs in blue plastic noose
from your weathered hand.

Me, the bearer of bread
hot soup for the soul
and soft blanket warmth.
We settle together
to watch the world wane
You tell me your story
hushed tones as sun sets
homeowner to street roamer
family man to castaway
as an eye blinked
and winter frosts left their bloom.

We shared our love of Cohen
as the stars forged the sky
you sang a little
with tobacco rough lungs
the sweetest sound
mixed with bitter tears
picking through all that remains
in the ashes of your life.

You thanked me for kindness
grateful for a chance at visibility
your gratitude reciprocated
by the impression left upon my heart
your face forever summoned
by Leonards finest song
I remember you well
at the halfway hotel...
I've met some wonderful people that live their lives on our streets, this particular guy has always stayed with me and I give thanks with this verse for all that he taught me. Oh and thanks and big love to Leonard Cohen, for the title, first two lines (slightly altered) and for supplying the soundtrack to my rainy afternoons.
Always choose words wisely
as they can do such harm
use them not to wound or hurt
belittle or disarm
for confidence is fragile
it masks the truer self
that child inside wrapped tight in scars
that dare not love itself.
The pen is mightier than the sword
You, the keeper of tides
silvering shadowed streets,
illuminating the hush
as sleeping infants dream.
Tonight your light
will touch troubled hearts
with bone-chilled fingers.
Be gentle, sweet Luna
let them know the sun will come.
Full moon tonight...
I sit and watch the sunrise,
as life unwanted 
courses through my veins.

Once I saw the joy in morning
It's quiet wonder would lift my eyes,
nature awakened by it's tender kiss
as I breathed it's sweet perfume.

I see no glory now
there is no song lilting gently on a breeze.
All birds have flown
only silence remains.

I will hang my heart on broken bough
to rot amongst the fading blossoms
and bow,prostrate before the coming storm.
Silence falls as darkness comes
bleeding colour from the earth.
Alone I sit, screen lit, waiting for sleep to find me.

It's there we meet,
there we create sparks of light to rival galaxies.
There is no beauty finer than that created in nether worlds,
tales woven through darkness and sub conscious need,
while demons weep at the beauty of our souls.

Tides may change at the moon's behest,
daylight mocks our longing
yet we remain steadfast
You my flotsam, I your jetsam
tossed within life's currents,
while we cling to our conscience
in hope of repair.
Praying into the void for forgiveness and the dimming of the sun,
that we may dream once more.
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