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Jun 28 · 455
Wake Me Not
Tryst Jun 28
Wake me not from solitude
To tell me I am alone;
Place no cup of kindness here
Beneath my silent throne;
Lift your gaze not heavenward,
Look not unto the sky,
For I am one lost to this world,
For I was born to die

Break no stone, nor cut no bough,
And trouble not the soil;
Make no mark to why or how
Suspended was my toil;
Bring no breath, no uttered word,
No sentiment of joy,
For I am one lost to this world,
For I was born to die
May 13 · 65
Playing It Safe
Tryst May 13
Life without regrets
Defeats the point — Place your bets,
Risk the whole **** joint
May 13 · 75
The Digital Age
Tryst May 13
Bitcoin wallets fold
Without a din — Alms of old
Rattle ne’er a tin
May 10 · 163
Well of Truth
Tryst May 10
Verily I say
To thee of TRUTH — Long she lay,
Libelled as uncouth
Jan 20 · 149
A Fond Farewell
Tryst Jan 20
I look the last this land I leave behind —
Timeless as water, bountiful as sorrow,
Abode today, a memory tomorrow;
Her contours etched untarnished in my mind —
How sweet our first encounter; how unkind
That time which man is wont to beg and borrow
Brought forth this bitter twilight ere a morrow
When all our self-same sunsets will have shined —
    Henceforth sunrise shall tarry ere it greets me;
    The midday sun shall cast a sterner gaze
    As paths unknown reveal their hidden troves;
    Home is the sacrifice for those who journey
    Without return;  We venture through the groves
    Of doubt and fear to set our lives ablaze.
Dec 2020 · 519
The Four Seasons
Tryst Dec 2020
Seasons come and go —
Spring births Summer; Autumn leaves;
Winter yields her woe
Oct 2020 · 356
All Hallows Haiku
Tryst Oct 2020
Witches at your door —
With Frankenstein and Batman?
Candied gifts galore!
Sep 2020 · 377
Painter and Poet
Tryst Sep 2020
Painter and poet,
Artists, both — One doth show it,
The other doth quoth!
I found an artist, Liliana Graham, had used one of my poems as inspiration for her painting, which inspired me to write this little piece.

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/858997/sunshine-and-sand/

https://www.saatchiart.com/art/Painting-Sunshine-and-sand/680519/4020169/view
May 2020 · 446
Star-Crossed Lovers
Tryst May 2020
Star-crossed lovers died,
Upon a blade and poisoned,
At each other’s side.

Woeful was the bride,
At peace where two unseasoned
Star-crossed lovers died,

Taken by the tide
Who named two lovers treasoned,
At each other’s side.

Speak their names with pride,
For in that crypt where reasoned
Star-crossed lovers died,

Love does still reside,
In lovers lain imprisoned
At each other’s side.

Love dies not denied;
It dwells ‘twixt where garrisoned
Star-crossed lovers died,
At each other’s side.
Apr 2020 · 329
The Greatest Gift
Tryst Apr 2020
LOVE, the greatest gift,
Lies disguised astern cold eyes,
Lost alone adrift.
Apr 2020 · 213
Dull Gray Sky
Tryst Apr 2020
Depression is a flat and empty road,
Gray bitumen against a dull gray sky,
No pit stops to unload a heavy load,
No off-ramps and no stop signs by and by,
A shadow etched upon its lifeless face
From clouds that blot affection from the sun,
Loping alone through endless open space,
Unpurposed hitherto when it begun —

It stretches like a finger pointing forth
To where the earth and heaven press their lips,
A mocking jest to whom may seek its end,
And on its back we mortals weave and wend,
A conga-line of self-absorbent trips
We weigh as gold, yet tally not their worth.
Apr 2020 · 366
A Darkness Crept
Tryst Apr 2020
A darkness crept into my waking crypt,
Its tendrils coiled to grip my tortured throat,
Till retching, retching, gurgled on a rote,
Prostrate, held in its clutches, tightly gripped —
No eye perceived this devil as it slipped
From day to blackened day inside to gloat;
An instrument was I to sound its note,
A plaything used, discarded, broken, stripped —
The world became a window; The outdoors
Turned alien; The beast remained inside,
Content to keep the prison of my mind —
From time to time I dared unto the stores,
        But ever on returning I would find
        The nightmare waiting where we both reside.
Apr 2020 · 165
We Are Akin
Tryst Apr 2020
We are as sand and each is but a grain,
And as the gulls that circle, wings unfurled,
That seem as one to stars above the world,
We are akin to each, yet not the same —
And if one grain is plucked unto the sea,
Do stars proclaim diminished is the beach?
Do gulls bemoan the lesser is their breach
For banquet set ‘tween ocean and the lea?
No, no! Tis brother misses sister lost;
Tis mother mourns a son, or daughter taken.
Young gulls soar still; Old stars gleam on unshaken.
Tis deep amongst the dunes wherein the host
        Does quake as news of twilight whistles by,
        Heedless to one less twinkle in the sky.
Apr 2020 · 146
I Cannot Speak
Tryst Apr 2020
I cannot speak for thee, but here I lay
Ensconced inside my home, not struck with fear,
But purposed to entrench within this sphere
Until this growing gloom has passed away —
I dine on steak, with wine; I quaff my scotch,
And pick at nibbles from a fancy plate;
I click to find a comedy to watch,
Averting eyes from news I’ve come to hate —
Was it thus so when plague swept through the land?
When Spanish flu ran rampant and unchained?
Did children sneak to parties parents banned?
Were beaches full of tourists unrestrained?
        I think, compared to them, we have it best,
        And time shall ease our sorrows with her zest.
Mar 2020 · 199
A Wild Melody
Tryst Mar 2020
Winds from the mountain sail in ‘cross the sea,
Tree tops are whistling a wild melody;
Time, the old fiddler, has struck up his bow
As Summer flees south with the waning Sun’s glow —

Lock up the windows and seal all the doors,
A red mist is rising on these hallowed shores;
Shelves full to bursting and no one let in,
A storm is a-looming about to begin —

Footprints still rest in the places we’ve been,
Faltering short of new pastures unseen;
Untrodden pathways lead yonder away,
Unto an horizon, unto a new day —

Mist hides the morrow that lingers in wait
To greet weary travellers who pass by its gate;
Night is the shadow that cloaks all in fear,
Dawn is the beacon to beckon light near —

Out from the mist, from the dark, shall arise
A halo of sunlight to brighten the skies;
Sunrise and sunset shall be bookends, no more,
For days long since borrowed, and days still in store.
Mar 2020 · 1.0k
A Secret Past
Tryst Mar 2020
Some scars never heal —
Like dormant snow-capped pathways,
Secrets to conceal.
Mar 2020 · 106
The Wuhan Waltz
Tryst Mar 2020
Climate change apocalypse,
The views of eco-terrorists:
    No one flying,
    Airlines dying,
    People unemployed;

Gulp clean air in grateful sips,
Locked in your home with trembling lips:
    No one buying,
    Industry dying,
    Boarded shops preside;

Marvel as the sunlight skips
Across the bows of rusting ships:
    No one cruising,
    Nor perusing
    Trips on oceans wide;

Ah! This world does well eclipse
Old oil-obsessed dictatorships:
     No one caring,
     No one sharing,
     Since our whole world died.
Jan 2020 · 119
Blind Man’s Diplomacy
Tryst Jan 2020
One hundred and seventy six
Were murdered within a few ticks —
Now to hide from a war,
We’ll pretend we’re quite sure,
Their missile was launched just for kicks
Dec 2019 · 124
O Mistress Moth
Tryst Dec 2019
O Mistress Moth! Leap not unto the flame;
Fear not the night that cloaks prey from its foes —
Light is the unforgiving dais of fame
And seeking of its joys unveils its woes —
The pointed pyramid has but one capstone;
Yet many storied stones may crave its peak,
And trampling underfoot the very backbone
That urges strength may make the structure weak —
Be guided not by falsehoods ever bright;
The fairest candle lit beyond a pane
Of crystal glass may dream of freedoms flight,
Imprisoned in its lonely lead-lined frame —
        Be at peace —  Night demands no keen redress;
        And suffer not through fear of loneliness.

O Mistress Moth!  Too swift the curtain came
To billow through a broken pane the throes
Of light and life anointed on your name —
A miscreant by each appointment grows
Until upon a trove it stands full-height,
And towering hence commands with regal reign
A Queen’s demise — So was it done this night —
Let all who bore their malice wear this shame,
For in their hands this sin will not atone;
It grows as shadows lengthen in the wake
Of shuttered light — To be as one alone
Was much to bear, too much this one to take —
        So by this end an end we now possess;
        Our trial to bear this loss for loneliness.

O Mistress Moth!  A clamour and acclaim
Born of deeds born of sadness softly goes
On — On with gust and grateful to remain
An itch to tease far far beyond repose —
A single truth makes many falsehoods moan —
And some that made your vow no longer speak,
And some that speak speak things to them unknown,
And who knows true the boldness of the meek?
Yours lives eternal blazing in the light —
A hope borne beacon fated to retain
The dreams and fears of one short mortal plight;
A star that echoes like a lost refrain —
        If light was all your heart sought to caress,
        May boundless light repeal your loneliness.
Jul 2019 · 212
The Blind Beader
Tryst Jul 2019
Tis her eyes that I remember —
Intense as sun upon the frost,
Intent in spite of all they’d lost,
Invested in their task

They smouldered like an ember —
And there she sat, her table lade
With baubles bright and trinkets made,
Her face a stoic mask

Her fingers moved like grains of sand
Let loose within an hourglass bell,
And nimble as each grain that fell
They harnessed beads with thread

Her needle flickered as each strand
Stretched forwards like an uncoiled spring
To form a pretty Dragon wing
Beneath a Dragon head

And whilst she toiled, I read the card
That lay amongst her trinket faire —
“I am blind” — The words hung there
Heedless to my approach

Unseeing eyes wore no regard
For awe impaled upon my face,
As on she went to stitch and lace
Her pretty Dragon brooch.
Dedicated to Asha Martin, The Blind Beader of Richmond, Tasmania.
Jul 2019 · 172
A Clerihew Cacophony
Tryst Jul 2019
John Keats
Didn’t write any Tweets
Nor ever undertook
To post on Facebook

Percy B. Shelley
Sailed the Don Juan to sea
Where a monstrous storm seen rarely
Robbed Frankenstein’s Mary

His friend, Lord Byron,
Watched the beach with his pyre on
And then, on a whim,
He went for a swim

William Shakespeare
Loved his wife so sincere
That he willed her when dead
His second best bed

Sir Wilfred Owen
Wrote a **** spiffing poem
And he might well have wrote more
Had he outlived the war

Robert Frost
Got hopelessly lost
When for giggles and a laugh
He took the wrong path

Emily Dickinson
Needed hope to cling on,
So for lack of lucky heather
She clutched an old feather

William Blake
Saw the tiger, too late,
And he felt a cold shiver
As it ate his liver
May 2019 · 145
Basil and Rosemary
Tryst May 2019
I am — You are — He is — She is — We are —
A populace of conjugated verbs,
All congregated like a bunch of herbs
Wrapped up in twine, with never thyme to spare —

And Basil is too busy now to care —
He roots around the meters at the kerbs
For fumbled coins lost by “them from the burbs”,
And on a lucky day he looks to share

With Rosemary a coffee and a cake,
Always a takeaway, they daren’t go in
For though their coins are welcome, not so they,
And so, like king and queen, they leave the din
And hold their court in subways to partake
Of feasting on their banquet, out the rain.
Apr 2019 · 214
See the Ocean
Tryst Apr 2019
See, how Ocean wears the wind?
She ripples in a dress
Of sun-kissed sequins deftly pinned
To cajole and caress

See, a gull alight to hove
Unto his convalesces?
Reflecting on the heavens above,
Reflected in her tresses
Apr 2019 · 340
Toll of Life
Tryst Apr 2019
This toll of life?  Tis not of years
And youthful cloth outgrown,
Nor failing eyes dulled in arrears
For sleep they might have known —

Tis in the heart the toll is paid
With weight of love ungiven,
And foolish is the heart afraid
To seek on Earth for Heaven.
Apr 2019 · 176
O’er Milkmoon Seas
Tryst Apr 2019
How Morrow weaves her evensong
For buds, unwary, sweet and young,
Full-blossomed low on boughs of trees,
Still blissful in their infancies,
Beguiled by wind and rain and sun
To crawl to stand to walk to run!

And Oh! How Morrow ever-long
Shall pluck with purpose from the throng
Aged thorny vines on withered knees,
Wild saplings cursed with Time's disease,
And all betwixt whose yarns have spun
Out from the void whence they begun.

And so, sweet Morrow, shadows long
Flit fairy-like o'er milkmoon seas,
Thy cold enticing webs are strung
On oceans calm and careless leas;
A twilight rests on mountains flung
Unto the heaven that oversees
A midnight roll-call aired with sorrow
For young sweet buds who’ll miss thee, Morrow.
Apr 2019 · 327
Lady of Paris
Tryst Apr 2019
LADY, born for Heaven's gate,
Thy nation to inspire —
Alas that thou did immolate
Atop thy self-same pyre

LADY, borne from ashen grate,
Thy nation shall aspire
To gift to thee thy heavenly trait
And raise thee ever higher
Apr 2019 · 951
The Breathless Sea
Tryst Apr 2019
Breathless is the SEA —
Wild her eyes, and brash her cries,
Unforgiving, SHE.

Far-flung from the lea,
Men have yearned to hear her sighs,
Breathless is the SEA.

Beckoned from the quay,
Ships endure her fall and rise,
Unforgiving, SHE.

Unto each: The Free,
The Poor, The Slaves, Wealthy, Wise —
Breathless is the SEA.

Jack-tars fear her Fee:
Eighth-bell tolls for their demise,
Unforgiving, SHE.

Ever SHE will be
A mirror to heavenly skies —
Breathless is the SEA,
Unforgiving, SHE.
Haiku Villanelle.  First published 16th April 2019.
Mar 2019 · 732
Sleep Well Sweetheart
Tryst Mar 2019
Sleep well Sweetheart and do not worry much —
Tho' snow and ice shall ever be my bower,
I share with God and thee this final hour
And in thy ***** dwell — Thou art my crutch
To pluck me off a perch, and in thy clutch
I soar beyond the mountain, and its power
To hold me in its grasp, consume, devour,
To leave me destitute without thy touch —
    The herald Sun plays fanfare to my passing,
    The priestly Mountain keeps his stony face,
    The clouds above like mourners are amassing
    In slow procession by this resting place —
    As slumber steals me from thy lovers’ touch,
    Sleep well Sweetheart and do not worry much.
Nov 2018 · 295
Censored Crossword Clues
Tryst Nov 2018
A *** of earl grey             -- Clay container (3)
Is the *****, they say,       -- Inclined lea (5)
From unrighteous ***     -- Turf retainer (3)
To the hand of ***.          -- Deity (3)
Oct 2018 · 275
T. M. H.
Tryst Oct 2018
We look, we strive, enquire, we cannot see
Into the fog that time has wove to shield
Past days from us — Some things never revealed
Shall ever be to us a mystery —
And of you, many talk to some degree
And to and fro with evidence they wield,
And for or ‘gainst with joy too ill concealed
They argue this and that as their decree —
And you ever remain a silent stone;
From you, no utterance, truth nor denial —
Your voice is lost, your flesh has gone to bone,
You cannot speak the manner of your trial —
For one as you whose life is all but known,
Mayhap tis fair your death is yours alone.
Oct 2018 · 343
In Your Bed
Tryst Oct 2018
The monsters in this world
Look just like you and me;
They walk free on the earth
Despising all they see,
And if you could look deep,
Look deep within their soul,
Then you would find they keep
The goodness that they stole

What will happen when
The monsters in your head
Are featured on the news
And laying in your bed?

The newspapers report
And glorify their game,
A beast no one has caught
With some god awful name,
And if you could but feel
And feel the way they do,
Where nothing seems quite real,
They're empty thru and thru

What will happen when
The monsters in your head
Are featured on the news
And laying in your bed?

Three children found today,
Too gruesome to describe,
They went outside to play,
They used to be alive,
And someone somewhere knows
The shoe-prints in the mud,
And somewhere someone throws
The weapon caked in blood

What will happen when
The monsters in your head
Are featured on the news
And laying in your bed?
Sep 2018 · 4.0k
Ode to Thee
Tryst Sep 2018
A lake as still as still — a cloudless sky —
A bird-less forest — silent as the page,
That monk-like sits reflecting for an age
On pious deeds exalted upon high,
The page gilded in wisdom, lauded by
Its maker’s peers, wherein is set the stage
For Nature’s bountied beauty — I give homage
Unto its gifted craftsman, one that I
Have oft’ with envious eyes admired afar,
And matchless to his art, have grasped for skill
Far far above my grade — From him to me
Has come a gift as bright as Keats' Bright Star —
        Unto thy lake, may this stone rend the still,
        And loose thy songbird skywards, Timothy.
To one who inspires us all, in the hope this may inspire thee.
Sep 2018 · 474
Ode to Keats
Tryst Sep 2018
There lies one in Rome
With whom all England was blest,
Whose bright star came home;

And if thou wouldst roam
To seek for all that is best,
There lies one in Rome

Beneath stately dome --
A spirit too young to rest,
Whose bright star came home

And whose living tome
Gifted the heavens their crest --
There lies one in Rome

O'er seas laced with foam,
Whose words still quicken our breast,
Whose bright star came home --

His name gleams as chrome,
Where water writ his bequest --
There lies one in Rome
Whose bright star came home.
"Here lies one whose name was writ in water".
Sep 2018 · 501
Like a Rose
Tryst Sep 2018
Love is like a rose —
It hastens hearts a-tingling,
Tickles all your toes!

Friendships fade to throes
As hearts begin a-mingling —
Love is like a rose,

And each day it grows
It sets your nerves a-jingling,
Tickles all your toes!

Your skin brightly shows,
With blushing blood a-sizzling,
Love is like a rose!

It tweaks on your nose!
And sets the stars a-twinkling,
Tickles all your toes!

Do not fear for woes
Of love that ends a-dwindling —
Love is like a rose,
Tickles all your toes!
Sep 2018 · 131
A Watery Grave
Tryst Sep 2018
A crowd to me is a watery grave
Where chatter consumes the air;
Where sharks that circle with canapés
Are eyeing up the faire —
And I, the morsel they all crave
To drag unto their lair

Give me the deck of an ocean queen
When the daily feasting is done;
When the midnight sea flows by unseen
And the guests are all but gone —
Give me the peace of a night serene
And a place to be alone
Sep 2018 · 248
We Sat Atop
Tryst Sep 2018
We sat atop the remnants of a spire
That counted once the heavens its domain —
The storm that laid it low no more held claim
Unto that heart, that served still to inspire,
And we — we sat beneath a sky of sapphire
Inlaid with gold, a ring of Helios flame —
And ghosts passed by, and curious spirits came
And flickered over our hill like lilies afire

And leaving hence, I felt a bitter chill,
The numbing frost-touched fingers of the dead
That rent my soul and tore my heart asunder —
Such wounds infect the heart, the soul, the head,
And evermore resound inside as thunder —
Their chattering grating voices haunt me still.
Sep 2018 · 295
If Content Is
Tryst Sep 2018
If “content” is the narrative,
Wee daubed lines on a page —
A book without superlative
Would fill the content gauge

And if “content” is bits and bobs
Left in your grandpa’s trunk —
A pair of broken door knobs
Would serve as content junk

But if “content” is happiness,
The peace of being whole —
One errant daub, or bob the less
Denies a content soul.
Sep 2018 · 268
Golden Summer Bygones
Tryst Sep 2018
Though autumn runs swift, I recall summer bygones
When thin hours were thrift; when the golden horizons
Of sunrise and sunset rose quick to their meeting,
And the night wore regret of a day ever fleeting.

O! To drink one last draught of the schemes youth had made!
The toil of our graft now lays hidden in shade;
The sunrise comes calling, and the sunset declines,
But the autumn is waning, and the winter confines

The march of a heartbeat, the pace of its drummer,
As boot-weary feet bear the blisters of summer;
The aching-back bends ‘neath the weight of horizons
That bookmark the ends of our gold summer bygones.
Sep 2018 · 675
Our Sweet Tryst
Tryst Sep 2018
Meet me by moonlight
Where the low shadow falls —
We will dance in the twilight,
Our duet as loves’ thralls

We will dance tight together
For one heartbeat, one kiss,
And one breath of forever
Will preserve our sweet tryst.
Aug 2018 · 262
After the Party
Tryst Aug 2018
The crash of crystal breaking at a party
Draws jeers of laughter from the self-same few
Who claim, when morning comes, they never knew
Of idle boasts that grew to plans more hearty,
And pressed, would say from him we stood apart.  We
Were bold and brash but unlike those who slew
The *******, and the dark skinned, and the jew,
We upheld values of society.
The coward hides in plain sight in a crowd
And adds voice to the clamour, not as one
Who acts alone, subverting evil schemes,
But like as one so small, so ill endowed,
That when the hardy revellers are gone,
His empty life holds nothing but their dreams.
Aug 2018 · 195
Five and Forty
Tryst Aug 2018
Five and forty hands
Crucified democracy
In these harrowed lands
With a population of almost 25,000,000 people, today Australia has a new leader, chosen by just 45 of the 85 people eligible to choose.
Democracy in action?
Aug 2018 · 255
Politics and Power
Tryst Aug 2018
Ambition breeds strife --
The arm draped round your shoulders
Often wields the knife.
Aug 2018 · 175
Leonidas at Thermopylae
Tryst Aug 2018
Betwixt rock and sea,
Three Hundred haunting poems
And one melody.
Perhaps the only suitable topic for my 300th poem here.
Aug 2018 · 158
Buying the Election
Tryst Aug 2018
How poor votes are sold —
Dreams of rainbow unicorns
And a *** of gold
Aug 2018 · 379
Happily Ever After
Tryst Aug 2018
In life’s Fairytale,
Happily Ever After
Always hides Dragons
Aug 2018 · 320
I Sometimes Grieve
Tryst Aug 2018
The light my eyes receive
Reflecting of your face
That aids me to perceive
Each imperfected grace

Has had to wend and weave,
Though at tremendous pace,
Through airs that interleave
Our intervening space

And so I sometimes grieve
That I can but retrace
The beauty I believe
No time would dare efface.
Aug 2018 · 4.4k
Outside the Hospital
Tryst Aug 2018
They sit atop a low wall kicking heels,
Pyjamas draped in bathrobes pulled-to tight
To ward Antarctic winds — Nearby the squeals
Of blues and twos betray the mortal plight
Of some ill-fated soul — A fog bank peels
Up from their glowing embers, for in spite
Of coughing blood and dragging drips on wheels,
Collective will has long since lost the fight —

And did they think as children at the flicks,
As war was sold with glory, did they think
As Bogart raised a lucifer to his lips
How Tinseltown might guide them to this brink,
And just like Fleming’s catcher tempt them in
With candy coloured cartons and a grin?
Aug 2018 · 233
The American Dream
Tryst Aug 2018
To own a house has always been the dream,
Or so the kids are told — And so they yearn,
And enter servitude to pay to learn,
Amassing debts that pile up till they seem

As tall as any townhouse — Graduation
Goes by, and now they need a car to ply
For work to save to buy some old pig sty,
And banks will lend (subject to valuation) —

And so, kids born with nothing now have less,
And toil their life to pay the debts they owe,
And teach kids of their own how they should go
To lend to spend to learn to have success,

And buy a house to live the American dream,
Or wake from debt-fuelled nightmare with a scream.
Jul 2018 · 386
A Tainted Page
Tryst Jul 2018
The Avon Bard served to inspire
Young Keats unto his Bright Star sonnet

The sea took Shelley to his pyre,
Bestowed with words of Keats upon it

Yet Keats wet not the widow's eye,
Nor counted clocks that tell the time

Yet Shelley drew no Bright Star nigh,
Nor flowered a tale more sweet than rhyme

So why I ask would any poet
Claim unto them another's craft?

If thou has not the wit to show it,
Pray, keep thine own words saved as Draft.
It saddens me to see the work of others copied without reference to the original, especially here, and especially when so many offer words of congratulations and encouragement to someone with no skills beyond google/copy/paste.
Jul 2018 · 146
The Living Land
Tryst Jul 2018
The living Land of Gold lays desiccated,
Wept dry to dust for thee — Along its West-most
Rim, thy last sunset waned like a ghost —

Who carved thy sacred stone? Who decorated
Thy mortal tomb?  Who but for thee was lost?
Who worshipped thee above all Heaven’s host?

I eyed dismayed thy cold bones desecrated —
Mayhap the Sun reborn shall raise thy spirit,
As we raised up thy tomb to look upon it.
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