To muse among the flowers
and through the field to roam
I while away the hours
as on I walk alone
Along the river path I stroll
across the lock I stride
as onward walked alone my soul
when I lay down and died.
Enticing us in, sugar coated doors
for sticky fingers,
Doors of mystery, keep out, staff only
nettled in barbed wire.
Half open doors full of promise,
chocolate soft centred
Exciting doors, silk covered
in lace suspenders
Inspiring doors, Leonardo bold italic,
Lonely doors all shuttered in silence,
Sad doors, tear stained
and umbrella wet
candy striped in laughter
Forbidden doors, Pandora boxed,
best kept locked
Revolving doors covered
with the same sticky mistakes
Trap doors crocodile sprung
to catch you out
Doors that slide on tram like runners,
buffered into walls with imprint of face
Secret doors of camouflaged chameleon
thunder clapped in turmoil
Doors enticing us.
(memories of a lost youth)
There is a desert in my head;
An emptiness of shifting sands
That houses a Bedouin of thought
Camped around an oasis of
Memories; Nomads of a childhood
They ride on a caravan of camels
Around an empty quarter
That was my youth.
The night I let you walk away, no screams were heard,
No shouts or whoops of hurray
Only the silence of the night as I walked home alone.
The memories have all but faded, sometimes blurred
Around the edges from thirty years of wondering.
Your face comes to me from time to time
Then vanishes into some corner of my mind;
Where my past is kept hidden among nostalgia,
T Rex and childhood innocence.
Do you remember me?
I have never forgotten you! Tall and slim with long
Blonde hair, eyes that were bright and focused,
You were always funny and daring, happy, yet sad.
“It’s that nice girl again” whispered mother as I came in
From school. “She’s in the kitchen waiting for you.
John Wayne was there when it mattered;
during an Indian uprising he arrived in the nick of time.
Superman was there when it mattered,
flying in to save the earth from total annihilation.
My mum was always there when it mattered,
cooking up a Sunday dinner to feed four hungry mouth's
just before starvation set in.
But sometimes I feel all ****** up!
My Dad, a nice man, did this by not being there.
He was never there when it mattered to me.
He was always somewhere else!
You came in the dead of night,
Stealing into my dreams.
You came walking inside my head,
Daring to walk where others
Had dared not to tread.
You murdered me with passion
Held me in your spell
leading me from another,
Like some scarlet pimpernel.
In my dreams I can’t escape you,
When I wake you will be gone;
And I’ll have lost a second time
And once again you will have won.