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Alastair Fenn Jan 23
the rain's melting glass
moulding our views
and moving intentions
to rooms where it started

in grey skies and days
gripping tightly as tea melts between
afternoon darkness

the city at evening
turned pines into curtains
drifting on branches

and in sudden still we walked out between them
in tunnels so soft words can't escape we
shook them together
the snow freezing down
between coatings inside the stitched cotton
we're both waiting there as cars drive below

the rain's melting glass
and scatters through streets
and cracks in the frame
are beginning to show
Peter Balkus Oct 2018
I'm not scared of the sea,
and the sea
is not scared of me.
It exists for me
and tells me that to be
is much sweeter
than not to be.
Peter Balkus Oct 2018
I love sea.
In my previous life
I must have been a sailor
or seagull,
or a seashell.

This life scares me,
but I'm not scared to die.
I know I will be a sailor
or a seagull,
or a seashell
in the afterlife.
Peter Balkus Oct 2018
I left my smile by the sea,
now sadness laughs at me.
My days - an orphan's grief,
I wish I wasn't here.

The sea is calling me,
its sirens kiss my ears,
my soul - a shipwreck's mourn,
a hungry seagull's squawk.

No place I want to go,
no place I'd rather be,
no joy, no life in me -
for I left my smile by the sea.
Peter Balkus Oct 2018
I'm sitting
by the sea
and asking myself
who else I'd want to be
other than me.

I hear the waves
answering me:
There's no else
you would want to be
Peter Balkus Sep 2018
Who am I but a shell
washed away by the sea,
sleeping in the sand,
waiting for the tide
to take me back

Peter Balkus Sep 2018
I like sea,
because it lets me
It never laughs at me,
it only smiles.
Peter Balkus Sep 2018
Seagulls are circling
above the sea.
Sea shells are sleeping,
being kissed by the wind.

The sea is standing high,
higher than me.
Peter Balkus Sep 2018
I like sea shells,
because they are not waiting
to be found.

They are fine on their own,
sleeping in the sand.
They don't need anything else
to smile.

The roar of the sea
and the whisper of the wind
is enough.
Written on 22.09.2018 after short visit to a seaside in Brighton, UK.
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