"larking" poems
Remember me in spring when blossom's blush
and petals flair a - light in morning mists
that'll haze a rainbow hue - of flowered plush
to portrait mine as every bud untwists.
Upon the birding bath as robins splay
the warbling chirp shall voice as tho' from me
for you my sweet, in springtime bloom of may
shall hear the larking flute of my decree.
The dancing leaves shall tap and Ivy's birth
and Snowdrop's bow as daisy eyes unveils
as fragrant, olive air shall scent of mirth
that once were lost, now shrines as spring prevails.
Vernal rebloom shall stream that pulse of mine
then seek that earthly glow, and there I'll shine.
Sep 27, 2018
Sep 27, 2018 at 3:39 AM UTC
She will tame me, she cant blame me, when I put a smile upon her face.
He will paw me, he will claw me, but there's still an empty space.
Slow haunting whispers, I can feel her on my ear.
His breath, his warmth, the ever growing fear.
...Like a simpson, I change colour
The ink seeps on to the floor.
Do I stay and feel heart ache?
Or open that cage door?
He comes closer, puts his head against my heart,
A gentle pur, a silent thump, a misfit in the dark.
I reach out, then pull back, scared of his loathsome bite,
Not for lust, or need, or want, but an unworded fight.
It grows within me, like the locks on his mane,
Entwining round, engulfing me; is this what you call sane?
He bares his teeth, but not in anger, a gentle, sweet, supression,
Our eyes will lock, a growl will pass...
A fiery-tempered tension
-----------
Credit to Sarah Larking, who wrote this with me.
Nov 5, 2012
Nov 5, 2012 at 6:49 PM UTC
I am a Demon
I am not an inner Demon
I cut you in ways no one can see
I live in the dark, banished
I am your Demon
Once your knight, now fallen
I fight for you if called, But feared for what I will do
I can not help my blade
My sword pointed at your heart
I silently scream as it cuts in you you
I wear these chains
I wear this broken crown
Your Demon
Your forgotten
Larking quietly waiting to be called
Wishing I could be alive again
I fell for you
I am here
In spirit
In death
I watch over you
Hiding my face and form
Knowing it hurts
I don't want you to die
Keep fighting my Queen
Pick up my sword and shield
Pick up your self
And never forget how special you are
May 1, 2014
May 1, 2014 at 7:56 PM UTC
.
The larks playing on a summer breeze,
and finches darting in betwixt the trees,
my mind is enthralled by what it sees.
*A lark lands on my shoulder,
and it sang to me a secret,
I would love to tell it to you,
but I promised I would keep it.*
© Pagan Paul (15/08/18)
Aug 18, 2018
Aug 18, 2018 at 4:52 AM UTC
winter has crept from it's cathedral with it's blue loom of white sod
against black crows and over-coats. we awaken in our separate pause
and modify our crumpets with thin icing,
drizzled over moon faced scones -
as golden as your marmoset of port wine
and wrinkled wheels of cheese...
at a moment's notice.
you float through the open window where crescendo the crisp winds and the bacon fats
rendering in the musk of firewood, oaking the nose of the decanted day
the early hearth of heaven, now powder blushed and rustle thrum
with skylarks larking in the luminous icebox
of barely sunrise.
your eyes sparkle and my antlers score the aspen bark
on a lost acre of our thickening plot.
we love a lot.
Dec 15, 2012
Dec 15, 2012 at 11:22 AM UTC
The sky was beautiful,
a million glimmers of light flickered while dancing with the dark sun,
time became invisible,
days, years and empty time has passed,
and I still am gazing up when the world puts on its cloak.
Mother died again so I ran to the galaxy,
it was red and sharp,
glimmering like treasure,
seducing me to take it.
Then father's cries came again,
and the moon stung my tongue,
with the bitter taste of water.
When the moon began to droop as if it were milk being poured in the soil,
I would scamper and crawl into the wound that frosted my mothers stomach,
and the night would begin to spin,
the stars sunk into my veins,
a needle,
that was rusted and long,
stitched beneath the thin walls,
larking in the torn bricks of a broken home.
Apr 8, 2016
Apr 8, 2016 at 12:26 AM UTC
I
Walking à trois on Crosby Sands
He left us talking two to the dozen
and went for paddle
in Wellington boots.
The tide was coming in,
and before we could say,
‘hey, you’ll get wet’,
he’d removed all his clothes
(and the Wellington boots)
and stood buff naked
in the incoming sea.
The water swirled about his legs
caressed the hairs, the golden hairs
that still stood on his still trim calves,
his freckled thighs, and all the way up
to his bottom.
I felt I knew his bottom well,
and well enough to have placed
my hand between its cheeks.
But for Gloria . . .
If she was embarrassed
I’d never have known.
I suppose she’s seen rather
more male bottoms than me.
‘He’s just larking’,
she said, and laughed.
But as the tide came in
he was too far out . . .
to be larking.
II
A Water Polo team
5 Aside
winter training
in the autumn cold
good for the muscle tone
Malcolm threw the ball too far
it’s just a dot in the distance now
floating out to the shipping lane
past the windmills down the Welsh coast
next stop the Irish Sea
III
Oh the seductive tide
rolling across the shallow beach
hiding the creased and puckered sand.
Shadows and reflective light
flowed about him,
a mesmeric display of lateral forms,
as his reflection shimmered black
on the grey, brown, grey-white water.
He’d shaved his head
as if in benediction for the sea’s coming kiss
that would surely embrace him, take him
naked into its cold, cold clasp.
IV
Sketchbook in hand
she willed this standing ****
back into her imagination.
So long ago now
on that distant shore
in the opposite hemisphere,
by a blue blue sea,
And so very aroused
by the thought of that stony
wet nakedness beside her,
let her hand tremble
on the ****** page
as she saw his fingers
stretch out and touch
the incoming tide.
V
I watched him
time and again, time and forever,
too far out for me to touch.
His bold shoulders,
his well-muscled back,
from dawn to dusk
he was ever before me,
letting the water lap and kiss,
fold and flow between his legs;
up, up then over his hips:
to cover his spine, to stroke his neck.
I had to imagine his face of course,
being turned away from my outward gaze.
So I sent him my eyes, my ears,
my nose, my mouth and then
a cry from my heart:
‘I love you so, I love you so.’
Oct 30, 2014
Oct 30, 2014 at 5:33 AM UTC
Halloween.
Where the Queen of the imps, pimps her minions and daemons fly
where the good man asks why
and the bad ones don't care,
Halloween
is in the air.
Lock your window,bolt the door,keep the cat in,
dogs are for barking when goblins are larking about,
hear a shout and cover your ears,
let your fingers hide the fears,
hold your heart in,
don't take part in
Halloween.
The Pope pipes out hope in St Peters Square
but Halloween is in the air,
where will you be
under the bed hiding with me?
Oct 22, 2013
Oct 22, 2013 at 3:02 AM UTC
winter has crept from it's cathedral with it's blue loom of white sod
against black crows and over-coats. we awaken in our separate pause
and modify our crumpets with thin icing,
drizzled over moon faced scones -
as golden as your marmoset of port wine
and wrinkled wheels of cheese...
at a moment's notice.
you float through the open window where crescendo the crisp winds and the bacon fats
rendering in the musk of firewood, oaking the nose of the decanted day
the early hearth of heaven, now powder blushed and rustle thrum
with skylarks larking in the luminous icebox
of barely sunrise.
your eyes sparkle and my antlers score the aspen bark
on a lost acre of our thickening plot.
we love a lot.
Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 2:59 AM UTC
A thousand unclimbed chimneys but the soot lay heavy on his half starved frame,
and the woman,a name he could not pronounce waited in the darkened street to pounce upon unwary boys and men,
and then the clinging of the silt at low tide on the Thames, where the lens of greedy eyes would spy out,hear the cry out of the mudlarks
but no larking there.
The gears that grind and inner wheels that wind.
Northern towns do not exist
they're just a story that persists in our collective memory,
a nightmare that we waken from.
These mill town dressing gown like nursery rhymes
designed to make us think we live in better times,
wrapped us up in cotton wool.
Until
we were just as full of fear and fantasy
as our collective memory.
Industrialisation was the sow that suckled pigs,
look at them now,
Swines
don't talk to me of better times
don't talk to me at all.
Nov 30, 2014
Nov 30, 2014 at 7:34 PM UTC
As I get off
the bus from school
O'Brien says
that chick is waiting for you
by the bus stop
I look over
and see Fay
waiting there
in her school uniform
and her light fair hair
almost blonde
and her blue eyes
gazing at me
thought I may
have missed you
she says
no I missed
the first bus
I say
larking about
with O'Brien at school
o
she says
she looks at the bus
taking off
and then back at me
glad I've seen you
she says
I want to tell you something
but you must promise
not to tell anyone
not even your mother
or siblings
ok
I say
what is it?
we walk along
to the crossing
and wait until
the traffic stops
and cross over
and stand on the top
of Meadow Row
she looks at me and says
my mum's taking me soon
and we're leaving
my dad and brothers
I stand stunned
gazing at her
where you going?
don't know
Mum hasn't said
but you mustn't tell anyone
promise me Benedict
you won't
of course I won't
I say
she looks tearful
and we walk along
the Row
when are you going?
she shrugs her shoulders
quite soon
do you mind leaving
your old man and brothers?
yes very much
but Mum can't stay
any longer she says
and can't take the boys
as they're too young
and she can't have my dad
follow us or there'll
be hell to pay
she says
I look at her
my heart sinking
my mind getting overloaded
will you write to me?
I say
if I can
she says
we pause
by the green grocer's shop
and she looks around her
and up and down the Row
Dad will be so angry
and although she's said it
to him before he said
she couldn't leave him
because she'd be breaking
her promise to God
and then be ****** to Hell
I see
I say
not seeing but
standing there
giving the impression I do
I'll miss you
I say
I'll miss you too
so much
she says
and her eyes
are glassy with tears
I look
at the green grocer's shop
to take my eyes away
from her so any tears
I may have
are not seen
she lingers looking up
the Row
then her slim hand
takes mine
and she says
don't want to go
but I can't stay
have to go with Mum
I feel her hand in mine
warm kind of
pumping blood
kind of feel
she moves me up
Arch street
off of Meadow Row
and just behind
the green grocer' shop
and kisses me
on the cheek
up Arch street
coal men are filling
trucks and horse
drawn wagons
with sacks of coal
I sense her kiss
and her hand holding mine
and look at her
take in her eyes
her hair
and say
going to miss you
so much
I kiss her cheek
softly
shyly
and then silence
and in the background
the dropping
of sacks of coal
and horses neighing
and men shouting
or calling
and the bottom
of our shared hearts
and world
falling.
Aug 21, 2015
Aug 21, 2015 at 1:48 AM UTC
I was doing what you do when you gawk at a hawk
the hawk was just hawking about as hawks do,
now,
a lark would be larking about but not when a hawk
is out hawking about
and that's about it,
a slow night in Stratford.
Jun 25, 2021
Jun 25, 2021 at 4:32 PM UTC
A giant shroud in divine aura
Beckons me, summons me near
Larking on the cosmic harp
A sweet celestial spirit sharp
Who moves stone hearts to tears
The song rings out, around, above
A medley on which spirit can rove
All joy and all love soars in there
Sound drifting through enchanted air
Imbued with cosmic passion rare
Summons souls out of the lair
The song is ours, to sing with God
The spirit won't be squashed, downtrod
In incessant fury we appear
Mar 7, 2017
Mar 7, 2017 at 10:12 AM UTC
Time, tick. away today.
Like any other day.
Time, ticke--d away.
Why do I stand by this window.
To see life move around me.
Like some crazy dance.
People fat and thin.
And all between.
People with no fault of there own.
Come in.
Time, tick. away today.
Like any other day.
Time, ticke--d away.
The girl with a smile.
A dog tied to a pole, barking.
When I turn on the TV.
It is Pop Larking.
Time, tick. away today.
Like any other day.
Time, ticke--d away.
Nov 9, 2011
Nov 9, 2011 at 12:51 PM UTC
Lets spice up our *** life she said to me,
been reading this book and so plain to see,
If we tried something new,after going to bed,
things would be better than just giving head
so we tried this and that,and I said did that suit you ,
it was ok she replied,but get the Kama sutra,
so her leg went here,and my leg went there ,
like a *** game of twister with her rear in the air
all seemed fine and she started to straddle
said please treat me rough,smack my ***
with a paddle,have the palm of my hand
that would be better,all was good and things got wetter
heh grab cable ties ,strap me onto the bed,
******** I thought ,there left in the shed,
but my work tie was near and I thought
well that"s handy,all this larking about got
me so god **** randy
At the end of it all ,she came and I went,
two sweating masses ,hot, bothered, and spent,
so if things have got dull at the end of the day,
best treat yourself to 50 ways to weh hey
Mar 27, 2015
Mar 27, 2015 at 7:48 PM UTC
Eternal sunshine around the trees
dancing lilies and wildflowers
engaging a gazing look
rejoicing
rolling
two rocks
at night moonshine
and whistle of near lake wolf
Werewolf and Vampire appears larking
Mind
whispers
to know
the truth
behind the beauty
cruel eyes
sparrow
curdling lies
still,
I
walk
curiously
crossing lines
like a spotless brain
consuming some wine
Blueberries beauty
alluring, silent cats
Blazing fire, and orange shadows
magnetizing crystals of lakeside, then shuddering
Black magic and witches dilemma
haunting wild roses and
crocodile eyes
visible
with
black
moonlight
before hunting spark
Sun rays appear I saw myself in crocodile paradise
Magically
and tragically
no soils , I found
All surfaces were
made up of crocodile
It's all crocodile
It's all crocodile
It's all crocodile
I shouted
At 5 AM
My mind is not in my gear
My mind is not in my gear
I
started crazy
impromptu moonwalk
disappeared, compromising nightmare
double-clutch to unnatural dream forest
Alarm
vibrating vibrating
Alarm
stillness
remains, eyes open
forest dilemma remains
existing the unexisted in dreams still...
shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
...
Jan 10, 2019
Jan 10, 2019 at 3:55 AM UTC
I went and did it and I knew it, had to grow up
just a wee bit
but then I grew a little more,
didn't want to but I did it.
I got rid of childish things, like
snotty noses, rubber rings and
learnt to swim among the big fish,
wish I didn't grow at all.
Nothing here that keeps me young
no marbles, plasticine or
bubble gum, no kiss, chase, tell,
no teacher with the old school bell,
no larking, laughing like a clown
no fish and mushy peas no more,
the chip shops all closed down
some time ago.
We all go through it, grow and do it
and I never knew a one that grew and knew it
for the best,
but I'm stuck on page fifty-two in the book of
my life and I can't for the life of me
turn to page fifty-three
I don't want a new page
I want a new age,
about ten will do,
ten before I grew and knew
who I was.
Mar 23, 2015
Mar 23, 2015 at 9:21 PM UTC
A smooth and straight, an ordinary road
But in contrast to the houses of the area with trim hedges
Round their gardens with their cherry and apple trees,
That smooth and straight, and ordinary road, was an outsider
And ditto to re-occupied Nissen huts.
Heath grass had been cut short up to the edge of the road.
Down the centre there were proper markings
And cat's eyes. Now, I retain a picture of a squeaky clean
Smooth surface, colour a silvery, smoky grey.
Cars, trucks, some US military,
Would pass you by, grouped or singly, brusquely,
An air of unconcern native to them,
Engines' noises punctuating dominance
And if you ever thought to walk, even slide
A foot onto this road, vehicles
Would not stop and there would result outrage.
Sometimes I dreamt of a distant city.
I figured plain buildings hard to get to know, imposing,
In my mind it would be a quiet place
And, of course,
Important. Fifty miles; what
Anyone would do there, beyond imagining;
It all meant something different
At less than seven years old.
Those days we caught a bus, which went the other way,
To go to school. We had to cross that silver/grey road,
That inflexible road, then walk
A furlong or so up a gentle slope
Across the grassy heath to a winding
Road shaded by a deciduous wood, with crows;
A bendy, friendlier road.
With some of us larking about we went in a group
To wait for the bus.
Anywhere near that first road,
I walked close to the parent escorting us.
I would always feel unsafe near such an unkind road.
Apr 5, 2021
Apr 5, 2021 at 4:00 AM UTC
My heart is like an unexplored galaxy
Along with various stars
Glimmering flickering stars
Light of sun in and afar
The cosmos binding scars
Like in empty space full of
Meteors
Asteroids
Bounded by bolide and comet
But obvious there is no oxygen
And group of flesh will pay and access
Cosmic expanses
And remain for infinity the same
And soul the tiny atom of faith
Larking in those dark
Conditions meet, meld and melt
Beats adrift
Along with soul drowning together
Essence currents
Fireball, in and out
Torpedo?
It's space full of planetoids
And my heart,
Remained entangled in chaos of cosmos in search of eternity.
©when_eyes_narrate
Jul 27, 2018
Jul 27, 2018 at 10:52 AM UTC
She smells of the ink that broke grounds anew
His skin, like the paper, passed from me to you
They spoke of that era, intimately gone
The children waited for their dance in the sun
Their biggest statues were products of their times
Five years of longing, and two of moonlight
They speak of a tongue under deep scrutiny
They wither to write and that simply can’t be
These Paperbound Heroes surrendered their souls
So that which they speak can never be controlled
Each one lingers about in a leaping house
Their structure of thymes, their words of coals
Do not forsake them for long
A dreamer bedridden to some old device
His mind of electricity kept out the lice
They’ll take your deep pockets and show you your heart
What “folly’, what “fool” will bring about a start?
The capes and the crosses, and their simple times
Where one could live free without begging a dime
They can’t save us from the books where they’re bound
But it is enough that these stories resound
These Paperbound Heroes sacrificed their souls
To fill what’s within, the new century’s hole
Each leaps about like a larking mouse
Their stature of crime, their works of tolls
They won’t follow for long
Where are the beat-down, the colleagues with crowns?
The always around, knowing what’s going down
The knowledge-filled lungs in the smoke-filled rooms
An idle guitar, the ideas to groom
The poets and dead-beats that you spit upon
Welded our worlds, those vast vagabonds
Vain as they are, rough as they come
The smallest of pawns are still parts of the sum
These Paperbound Heroes, they silvered their souls
In pure desperation to decry the poll
They lark about in the loneliest house
Their stolen rhymes, their worn-out goals
They are forever strong
The boy in the bed, well he wrote for a while
He was transfixed by the drawn, timeless smiles
So who’ll be the one that will get in his way?
And trivialize every word he will say
The girl with the gun chose to lay her arms down
She chose to cease with such visceral sound
I believe they’re happily married today
It is bittersweet to throw oneself away
These Paperbound Heroes are weary and sold
Their grasps so that they may simply grow old
But if you fret that they belong in their house
In due time, the kids will grow into their soles
Move forward with your song
Oct 10, 2018
Oct 10, 2018 at 10:13 AM UTC
Crisp the air, and bright the day,
Brighter still was your radiant trust,
Your delightful honeyed greeting,
Eyes glistening with mesmerising magic,
Your courage is a cherished treasure,
Strength glimmers deep inside you,
We two walked as one delicious lyric,
Each of our steps lit with fresh hope,
Tan suede shoes gracefully tapping,
High heeled over hills and canal stones,
Holding your soft hand upon the crest,
Our fingers waltzing together lovingly,
Larking downhill with shared earthy joy,
Our laughter swirling through the air,
We glided under nature's canopy,
Dancing with gleaming inner peace,
Our journey a serenade of sentences,
Your words weaving softly into mine,
Your name is nectar inside my mouth,
My name with your voice is a melody,
Lush rose petal lips butterfly shaped,
Silken threads of sunlight unite us both,
The doors of our inner dreams opened,
Trees and waterways became our lounge,
We melted each other with pure passion,
Unveiling layers of transparency,
Upon the bed of the vast open garden,
The fingers of sanctuary traced over us,
I swam so shyly in your amber eyes,
Throbbing with ripples of pure bliss,
Our touch, the silky touch of our eyes,
A bridge glowing with intimate dignity,
On that curved soul ridge sat you and I,
Both sharing a flawless drink of respect,
In an age of icy cybernetic existence,
Both of us knew a much warmer tune,
Breathing in the sublime moments,
Tasting the scent of the late season,
The essence of your gorgeous patterns,
Darling, you and I, we discovered solitude,
Our spiritual kiss, it was ever so deep,
Lips and tongues wrapped in rapture,
This kiss, it twinkled and caressed us,
Musical notes felt in the fabric of our souls,
The fingertips of two unexplored worlds,
As we two parted, we felt the air pulsate,
In our minds we hugged each other close,
This was our mystical and tender embrace,
Oh, my gorgeous eyed dove, fly freely,
Reach for the soul of the vast cosmos.
Oct 27, 2021
Oct 27, 2021 at 3:45 PM UTC