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110 · Apr 2021
Trappings
Sam Lawrence Apr 2021
You once said all you
Ever wanted was
An island and a dog.
Just like
Robinson Crusoe,
I quipped.
Now we have
A new kitchen,
New cupboards,
Some new furniture
And a kitchen island.
It glistens in the sunlight.
Soon we'll find a dog.
But we both know that
Loneliness
Doesn't care.
It'll still be watching,
With two sad puppy eyes.
109 · Dec 2020
Moontaste
Sam Lawrence Dec 2020
How many moons did I really miss?
The big, the bright, the bold, the blue -
the daytime crescent
or a midnight swan?
Did I count them all
on my two hands?
Or was the same moon sat there
all along? Enticing and bewitching those
that dared to take the time away
from all the mundane earthly stuff;
the daily bluff, the soulless bleed.
What if every single moon was new?
And those that basked beneath
the moonshine never light
knew how it's luminosity,
shaped the eye.
If I chased it round the earth
would I see it slowly turn?
Or would I turn myself
to lunacy?
108 · Dec 2021
A winter evening walk
Sam Lawrence Dec 2021
The parks are all much duller now
the children have gone home.
No little shrieks to spike the peaks
of every skybound swing.
No swipe of vibrant colour from
the roundabout's slow spin.
Instead the frames of metal poles
lay dormant under coats of paint
so thick and black that even
crows can hardly dare to perch.
Outside the old dogs eye us both.
Their long stares soaked
with yearning
for the real wilderness.
108 · Oct 27
A Stabbing
Sam Lawrence Oct 27
Bouquet is far too grand a word
For flowers lent against a tree.
Plastic wrapped and garage bought,
They'll never complement a vase
Or bask inside a living room
Amongst a noisy family.
Instead they'll wilt beneath achenes
From rows of careful London planes,
Their never tasted flower food
Held on with bright red sticky tape.
Stranger, brother, loving son,
Far too swiftly were you come
And gone.
108 · Jan 2021
Supersonic
Sam Lawrence Jan 2021
I don't recognise any
Of the things
You sing:
Whispered tunes,
Broken lyrics.
Behind you,
I stand:
Amongst the ruins.
But when you're
Wearing headphones
And I catch your eye,
I'm transported
Into song.
105 · Dec 2022
Old friends
Sam Lawrence Dec 2022
We meet up early from afar,
eager beavers that we all are.
Patted shoulders tell me how,
we're stouter than the boys we were.

Squashed together in our booth,
the food is just an incidental course.
It's wine is what we need to spill
the gibberish across our bowls.

And did you watch that film? The one
with whatshisname who's married to
the one from
... our phones can rescue
all the many names we can't recall.

All too soon we're done. The catching up
complete, we float back through the
empty streets. Our separate ways are lit,
by some small flame that we have shared.

At home you ask about their wives
and other things about their lives.
I don't have anything to share. To which
you rightly ask; were you really even there?
105 · Aug 2021
Mr Punch
Sam Lawrence Aug 2021
little man, big man
funny Mr Punch
tangled up his string
turned into a glove
was a man above
now a man below
swinging at the missus
in his very own show

bad man, devil man
anger in his bones
fighting the police
with a ******* rod
has he a conscience?
has he any pride?
what about the real man
who is hidden inside?
102 · Oct 2021
Reflections
Sam Lawrence Oct 2021
my dog barks
when things are hard
he snarls when he's afraid
and when he finds it
all to much
he skulks back in his cage
my dog is just like other dogs
his heart is there to see
I'm not sure if
he's learnt these things
from watching
other dogs
like me
101 · Aug 12
Hillside
Sam Lawrence Aug 12
Early morning
I stand barefoot
On watered grass
As the rising sun
Kisses leaves of olive trees
With beads of yellow light
I am earthed
My static buzzing
Dampening down
Like the drowsy bees
Hidden in the lavender
Sam Lawrence Dec 2020
good morning
silence
oh no
here it is again
slowly, the billowing sheet
floating down onto the bed
the careful tucking corners
and turning back       the top
while it just coils there
      in the middle
like a dead cat
100 · May 2023
Fear
Sam Lawrence May 2023
Lift me up, I am an angel.
Tie me down, I am the dark.
Let me slither with the reptiles.
Hear me cawing with the rooks.

Wrap me up, I will never fade.
Crush me, please, I won't forget.
Round me off amongst the pebbles.
Dash my head against the rocks.

I can warn you when there's danger.
I can scare you when there's not.
I am a friend to loveless lives.
I am nothing when forgot.
100 · Apr 2023
Let's act the rest
Sam Lawrence Apr 2023
Poets are selfish *******.
They pretend they write for others
But the words are really theirs.
Shall I compare thee?
Try to stop me, more like,
As they go on with the rest.
Break their dreams
Or **** yourselves,
You're never free to choose.
For the selfish bunch of poets
We are nothing but their muse.
99 · Dec 2022
Two phones
Sam Lawrence Dec 2022
I wish your voice had sounded clearer, but you
were driving. Driving through some winding
country lane, I guess; trees bending over
the road, eavesdropping as we tried to speak.

I was in the kitchen, mobile wedged between
my ear and shoulder, peeling potatoes. Coils
of brown skin flopped into the colander. I told
you how my work was unbearable. Thankless

days. Endless asks. Joyless tasks. Finally,
I told you how I'd fallen. Your words were
clipped by empty spaces as the signal faded.
I scarred my forehead as I fell. Healing now.

Better than it was. I imagined the rhythmic
cat's eyes, punctuating the road like tiny
shooting stars as you drove homewards
into the night. Underneath the waning moon,

far from all the bright lights.
97 · Jun 2020
What's missing?
Sam Lawrence Jun 2020
confronted by an old friend
who turns up unannounced
you lay your life out piece by piece
they weigh it ounce by ounce

and when you find the sum of parts
is lesser than the whole
they'll ask you what went missing
from the bottom of your soul

nothing dried up by the sun
or left out in the rain
just a sense of emptiness
you couldn't call it pain

that's the hole your filling
with all your new false friends
the ones that drink your spirits
and leave you their dog ends

so come embrace your failings
don't hide them out of sight
without our incompleteness
we've no way to unite
94 · Aug 2021
Palindemic
Sam Lawrence Aug 2021
We'll live
We'll live with it
We'll learn to live with it
We'll need to learn to live with it
We'll learn to need it
We'll need it
We'll live
93 · Mar 2020
A mischief in the making
Sam Lawrence Mar 2020
"Hello, Mr Magpie
How's your wife and kids?"
He turns, head to one side
And quizzical ever
Silver seeking eye
Spies my empty superstitions.
"They're qute well,
Thank you.
My son found four spoons
My daughter, several bottle tops
My wife has built a new nest
But I feel solitary
Happily spreading sorrows"
92 · Apr 2020
Another act
Sam Lawrence Apr 2020
when our bold new era
first stood up
a painted face
on a makeshift stage
and flickered into life
with the rhythmic certainty
of stuttering florescence
we all applauded
enthusiastically
you recall
men of science
were there beside us
and soon our folk memories
of war and plague
scuttled off like rats
to hide inside the taboo
and now the interval bell
compels us back
but we've forgotten
what we're to do
91 · Dec 2020
Taste
Sam Lawrence Dec 2020
The sensation of a memory,
awoken in the mouth:
a sweetness on the tip
or sourness in a bite.
As we chew a picture forms,
the shifting sunlight drifts
across a single pane of glass -
the taste of time transfixed.
91 · Jan 2020
Wishes for B
Sam Lawrence Jan 2020
Oi B! Don’t sink
To the bottom of the sea
Don’t drown, in your
Nights out on the town
Keep some air
In your lungs
Find some passion
Away from the crowd
Put the spring
Back in your step
Be the B
You always were to me
Regain some rhythm
Or don’t
But don’t
Be rolled over
Before
You have
Realised
90 · Jan 2022
The way to nowhere
Sam Lawrence Jan 2022
I'm unnerved by hearing flattery.
Did I invite it with my neediness
or coax it with a smile? Perhaps
the words that follow are less
appetising fare. Or is the flatterer
expecting reassurances in return?
Unless I'm sure it's quite sincere,
I'm left unsure what to say.
I add a simple "Thank you"
in the hope it goes away.
Sam Lawrence Mar 2020
I miss my paved paradise
I’d even pay the $20 admission for the tree museum
If it were still there
90 · May 2020
A trick
Sam Lawrence May 2020
after the velvet blackness
made born blinking fur
plucked out, top hat
the metal lights
trance white beams
from a high bolted rig
suspended perilously above
the painted plywood stage
illuminating the magician's rabbit
held scruff by his silk gloves
ta-dahs us into startled
appreciation and for a moment
we grin marvel at this thing
we knew was coming
we knew was fake
we knew would
startle us like a pop gun
before basking briefly
in the fleeting
incomprehension
before we turn
hop away, hop away
89 · May 2022
The Hoarding
Sam Lawrence May 2022
Underneath a trestle table, the sagging
boxes sit; their edges gently tearing
with the leaning piles of books.
And every book is bending.
And every page is worn.
And the words inside
are cluttered now
- like the mind
that stacked
them there.
88 · Jun 2020
Orpheus #6
Sam Lawrence Jun 2020
When I travelled below,
With only my songs,
I felt no fear,
Because I had no responsibility.
Returning as the sole guide,
I stared at the path ahead.
Imagining each awful possibility,
That might await us - both -
If I failed.
My love twisted into fear.
What grew from an urge to protect,
Suffocated us.
As we drew closer to the light,
I realised we'd never feel safe.
We were compelled to look back,
At the horrors we scraped past.
Or let that festering within us,
Immobilise us completely.
My destiny, through myth,
Turned into anxiety in us all.
88 · Oct 2020
Waves
Sam Lawrence Oct 2020
where the sea and the land
touch each other
  gently with the sand
  rough with the spray
the gifts they give the other
secreted away
  mermaid's purses
  turtle's eggs
where the sea and the sky
touch each other
  pink with the sunset
  white with the moon
there is no trace
of their embrace
  promised treasures
  sunken tombs
Sam Lawrence Aug 2023
Shout it with a friendly bark
Or sing it in a football chant
I'll have no sorry frowns today
Oh, give me love that's simple

A variation in a minor key
Is nothing like the melody
If notes are always black or white
Then I'll have love that's simple

If sadness has your duvet pulled
Above your ears to muffle out
All sounds of dogs and crowds
You won't hear love that's simple

So ask me why it is that I
Would still believe a patent lie
I'll tell you when we win the league
Oh, give me love that's simple
88 · Jul 2020
A reflection
Sam Lawrence Jul 2020
Your sadness
has made you hesitant.
Unsure of the how
or the why.
And now you sit,
reminiscing on your dreams;
the should-have-dones
or could-have-beens.
A playful love, a silent kiss -
the ones that never came to be,
the ones that you only you can see.
When you've fallen from a world
that's built on lies (or so you're told)
and when the falling has no net,
no friends to rally round, or set
you straight upon the winding path,
how do
you find
your way?
88 · May 2020
Orpheus #4
Sam Lawrence May 2020
Don't get me wrong,
I am glad he came back,
I just didn't expect it, that's
all, what with me being
dead and that. I've not had
many other boyfriends. I think
you might be right. He always seemed
more keen on his singing than hanging
out with me. It was always "here's another
song I've written". Of course it was flattering,
at first, when he wrote songs for me.
But now it's like he doesn't even want
to know me. He won't even look round, he just marches off in front all the time...
88 · Jul 2020
Recycling
Sam Lawrence Jul 2020
spaghetti in the food bin
a love story for the worms
88 · May 2021
Movement, always.
Sam Lawrence May 2021
I'm standing still
balancing on one leg
watching the horizon
making tiny movements
corrections, perhaps
against the rushing
stream of gravity
that pulls me down
towards the ocean
where the rocks
clamour with blue sky
spraying salty kisses
as I fall into oblivion
87 · Oct 2020
(young / old)
Sam Lawrence Oct 2020
The painful truth is
  (undeniable / dawning)
that
  (most / many)
young people won't
  own their own house,
  have a stable job
  or raise a family.
They've been brought up
  (expecting / taught)
by generations that lived
lives that were
much more similar
to their own parents'.
The future, now
  (bleaker, / reality,)
looks like it can't keep
its promises.
What
  (anger / shame)
will fill the void?
Gen X, so slightly in the middle, watching this unfold.
87 · May 2020
City walks
Sam Lawrence May 2020
We've surely trodden
all the directions
around our house -
methodically, at times,
drunkenly, at others.

We're Minotaurs,
trapped inside.
Hooves poised,
compass needle
wavering under our
magnetic indecision.

Our walks along
the railway cutting -
a city's scar, threaded
under bridges, over bridges -
an old straight track or
urban ley line, perhaps -
is the only place
we briefly, freely,
realise how trapped
we are in this labyrinth.

I remember, as a child,
stepping off the tube
in a new station and realising,
with utter indignation,
that left and right had
cheated me.

Every city, its corners
pinned down by maps,
keeps turning if you
stand still - there is
no easier way to be lost.
87 · Jan 2020
A walk in the park
Sam Lawrence Jan 2020
Hold the edge of my coat
If you like we could take
A little stroll through the park
Perhaps read the paper on a bench
By the pond
Quack quack
Those ducks
Really do make peculiar noises
Somehow they look
Like they should be
Smoking cigars
With shiny teeth
And dark glasses
87 · May 2020
Orpheus #2
Sam Lawrence May 2020
yes - it's me, don't be afraid
let me guide you
towards the light

you'll feel yourself again
once we're oustside
under the sky

I so want to touch
you but i can't
promises, I

watch, there's a gap here
stay close
won't

I tried to look but
shouldn't, I knew
but I couldn't
Sam Lawrence Nov 2022
I saw the same sad magpie twice today.
Does that count as joy?
Solitary bird.
Sat beside the greenest grass.
Sat upon the safety of the fence.

That night he sees the moonlight in a pool;
"I'll keep this trinket in my nest".

My uncle Paul. Born when other people
wanted to forget the war,
twenty years before I arrived.
We drew grey tanks on scrolls of paper,
splattered soldiers with our red felt tips.

What do you do when the sirens start?
Turn off the gas. Seek shelter. Do not panic.

In my grandma's bathroom was a box,
made from a hollowed out tortoise.
Inside, snug and heavy, like the last
solid Russian doll, lay the grenade.
Safe. No charge. So my uncle Paul said.

The earth still smoldered when the tortoise
first walked. A survivor of the last Great Dying.

I've never seen a bomb explode.
I've not been deafened by a blast, nor
smelt sulphur tinged with rotten meat.
What is war without the dead?
An empty stage but for the props.

The heavy velvet curtains twitch,
as the stagehand checks the house is packed.

A single spotlight swoops then rests;
illuminates the uncaged beast. Scales, horns,
bristles, teeth; frame his clammy goat-like face.
Seven magpies peck the boards. A cacophony
of squawks drown out the murmured audience.

I am a dying memory.
I am lifeless as the hands that made me.
86 · Jan 2020
Arguing
Sam Lawrence Jan 2020
We’re bare
Our words can
Chill each other
We’ll look
For every intent
Before settling on kindness meant
But when we settle
I can take joy from that instant
And slip away

I’m away without you
But I’m alone
If I’m not feeling alone
Then I’m not loyal
And if I’m not true
I’m never going to be happy

I don't want to be right or wrong
I just want to be held
I don't want to be grown up
I just want time to stop
In your arms
While you breathe in my ear
Until I fidget
But feel a little better
Afterwards
85 · Dec 2021
In spirit
Sam Lawrence Dec 2021
I have drifted slightly
from my steady orbit.
Just far enough to see
myself still living out
my usual life, whilst I
watch; a casual ghost.
I catch few words from
all my conversations.
None of the meaning.
Nodding. Without. Really
listening to the steady
falling of the universe.
85 · Sep 2020
To be
Sam Lawrence Sep 2020
just at comfort's edge
where questions bite
beyond the flickering
wilderness of us all
you can sit and dangle
your legs, soak up
giddy pride and dare,
dare to answer
what we already know
inside, but cannot touch
84 · Sep 2021
Fallen
Sam Lawrence Sep 2021
My city is awash with dreams,
some are painted on the walls;
they're lurid like a migraine,
lucid as a hummingbird.

My lover is a dreamer too,
she speaks a partial truth;
her words are like a fragment
of my city's only street.

She told me how she's searching
for the palaces of glass,
but every pocket map she's had
is a labyrinth of folds.

When all the squares were folded tight
and pressed upon themselves,
she walked along the creases
and fell into my world.

Beneath the neon blindness
of a piercing blue night,
we fused into a lump of clay
and lay down on the earth.

My city is a towered forest,
tearing pockets from the skies.
Crowds in heaven peer below them;
a precarious insight.
Sam Lawrence Jul 2023
Where is equality in distance
between Time and Space?
Ten years to one mile
seems about right.

Thirty years ago we were in Kilburn,
three miles west of here,
acting out our early twenties
with hedonistic disdain.
Clubs and bars would *****
us out into the night air
and we would scamper off
like single ants, unsure where
we might refind the scent.
All those roads are still blurred.

Perhaps I will make
sliding box puzzles
from obsolete copies
of the London A to Z.

I read that the majority of car crashes
happen within three miles of
where the driver lives.
Isn't that self-evident?
Aren't most journeys
journeys to or from home?
83 · Oct 2020
felt tips
Sam Lawrence Oct 2020
sat up high
away from the clatter of plates
and the brisk business of living
trying to perch
balancing between two moments
and sifting through memories
summoning them
through the little details
why are they always near the floor?
from the pauses, perhaps
where I've looked down
or childhood's elbows and knees
colouring in with arcs of the wrist
until the fragile paper bleeds
Sam Lawrence Apr 2020
endless meetings
using screens
built with a disregard
for eye contact
increases my
sense of isolation
Sam Lawrence Nov 2021
Before important business
can start, there's a general
sniffing of the night; a stale
nose of fireworks, perhaps
the evening star? The moon
adds a drop of essence,
beyond the too damp wet
piles of autumn leaves. We
walk, stopping frequently to
sample other joys; a scent
of fox, a whiff of squirrel.
Inside the wine shop I am
greeted by an offer of tasting.
Good boy. Sit. Strong tannins.
rich summer fruit lingers after.
Honey. Figs. Redcurrants.
81 · Aug 2022
My son, growing up
Sam Lawrence Aug 2022
I thought it was you,
but I wasn't certain.
One last glance back,
your sunbed definitely empty,
  towel crumpled / empty shell
I follow you out to sea.

Squinting; without glasses
I cannot tell if it's you.
Your head bobbing.

Alone.

The hazy afternoon sun
creates dancing ripples
of horizontal light.
As I swim nearer,
still uncertain,
I see you - but you as a boy.

Suddenly, I feel the same intense love
I felt when little you would stumble
back into my open arms
  laughing / crying / needing
needing me.

I reach you, but I see
the fine young man
you have become.

Floating together,
smiling at one another,
I am filled with a sad pride;
family holidays were always too short.
81 · Aug 2020
Lost innocence
Sam Lawrence Aug 2020
I plugged in the ****** router
81 · Mar 2020
after life
Sam Lawrence Mar 2020
my soul barely sings
it rasps uneasily
like geese slowly lifting up
across murky water
webbed feet pedalling
on a wind rippled lake

hidden in the dark
folds of the city
nature squeezed
between concrete slabs
peeping out as weeds
or a scavenging ginger fox

beyond the disposable
plastic landfill routine
life thirsts and splutters
a ****** straw
in an empty pastic cup
rattling the final drops

in my dreams I have heard
celestial choirs
fanfares for men
framed in golden wreaths
too high for my grasping
hands to reach
Sam Lawrence Jan 2020
You skidded
Sideways to a stop
Gravel sprayed
Like shooting stars
Looking round
Standing proud
Astride your bike
Grinning gurning
Wide eyed
Lights behind you
Along the coast
Reflected out to sea
We laughed and skidded
More recklessly
Until you planted your face
Into the ground
Too high to care too much
A calm concern blew us
Up to A&E
We laughed
A&E
That's what we'd had
You told the nurse
As she plucked
Gravel from your cheek
With tweezers
I left later
Tumbling down
Walking home
With a tale to tell
In the morning
Physically unscarred
But properly
Mentally mental
81 · Sep 2021
Good boy!
Sam Lawrence Sep 2021
my old dog feet
won't
carry bones
padding over floors
tiny paws and tiny toes

in a street of lights
new smells
hollowed out
do you see reflections
of the wonders outside?

downstairs stop!
am I
lead right?
as plain as pain
my heart is a bleed

bathe me again
buckets
soapy warm
may well never
fill me to the brim
Sam Lawrence Apr 2020
All my songs are love songs
Perhaps you cannot hear
The words are woven from the strands
Of lovers’ ashen hair

My melodies are whispered
There’s barely any tune
The rise and fall perceptible
In phrases of the moon

My chords are jarring, hollow sounds
All glocke without the spiel
An empty rib cage rattling
Beneath the Catherine wheel

My rhythm’s mostly regular
A symphony of clocks
It lacks a beating human heart
Just ticks without the tocks

All my songs are love songs
For lovers to find peace
You’ll hear them in sea shells
When all the waves have ceased
80 · May 2020
Orpheus #3
Sam Lawrence May 2020
love led blind, through barren paths
ever stepping back towards
a singularity of fear
to question makes
it disappear
can someone believe
without questions
without answers
that's not what lovers
in hungered trances
can pretend - it's not enough
even Gods aren't made
of stuff that tough
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