There is a blue bird
at my window
trying to show me
its pretty blue wings
trying to sing me
its pretty songs
can’t you see
my hair is grey
my heart is black
if I could turn the
hands of time
I would turn them back
I would love you more
hate myself less
fly away now
let me drink my
morning tea
fly away now
go and be with
all the other
pretty things …
Clay.M

I’m okay in here
you know?
she said
I’m writing my first novel
I get inspiration being
in a place like this
the drunks the ******
the junkies
all the lost and lonely are
washed in like rats from
the ***** city streets
she kept talking and I
kept listening
she was interesting
she had a cute lisp
and her legs where long
the lazy light caught
the curve of her smile
there were moments of silence
when she would write things down
take a sip of her drink
or to light a cigarette -
in this tortured place
she was like an angel
hope was still in her eyes
her skin had a healthy glow
she was unbroken by the world …
Clay.M

I’m lost she said
crossing her legs while
lighting a cigarette
I pour her a drink
and wipe the mascara
from her cheek
there was an unmistakable
sadness in her eyes
she used words that
would hold you for a
while then let you slip
you only feel this in the
last breath of your love
she said as the curtains
danced with the wind
like torn sails
there was a soft grey
blanket thrown over
the sun and she was like
a portrait of smoke
there was a red thread
that connected our spirits
there was a distant
hum of sad melodies
so much can happen
between the space of songs
and I don’t want to miss it …
Clay.M

I heard you moved away
to somewhere warmer
where memories won’t
scar a wounded heart
I heard you’re writing
more often in a
positive light
I heard you found
faith in the solitude
of the desert
I heard you are still
drinking our favourite
red wine
I heard your father
took his own life
I’m sorry for hurting you
I was stained with the
selfishness of youth …
Clay.M

Some days I like
being alone I paint
my heart in the
darkest - blue
I welcome sorrow
I hold it in my chest
like a deep breath
I like quite places
places with
empty corners
where I look for
blue angels painted
in the shadows
I like finding poetry
poetry that’s been
thrown out like
broken - art
I like listening to the
silence when we are
too afraid to speak
maybe this battle
in my voice will fade
into a soft - belief
some days I keep the
curtains - closed
sometimes
I like being - alone
don’t you?
Clay.M

Let us drink wine
until our speech
becomes relaxed
and our hearts
are just a gentle
whisper
let us be comfortable
beneath the
smiling stars
let our minds shine
softly as the crescent
moon gives us an
honest light
and we will sleep
upon the ocean sand
and the morning will
be unreligious
the sound of
seabirds will ride
upon the wind
and the waves
will be kind -
they will know us
by name …
Clay.M

It’s a new morning
the ghosts of old ideas
howl like lost dogs
I open the window
like a book of secrets
the air is clean with
a hint of Jasmine
the olive tree is
whispering wisdom
while the lazy breeze
dances with the leaves
I listen to the
language of birds
I hear poetry in the
slow movement of time
I admire the colour of
Lavender
I drink my peppermint tea
I pretend - I write
I am far enough away
to feel a spark …
Clay.M