"windscreens" poems
Words die little deaths,
Hopeful kamikaze runs,
Endings on windscreens.
Sep 22, 2020
Sep 22, 2020 at 11:52 AM UTC
a gentle patter of rain
tapping politely
at the window
not tempestuously
but imposing enough
in its constancy
a passive aggressive reminder
from the heavens
of our ultimate
lack of control
such a minor obstacle
and yet it tips
the scales of
what was planned
or hoped for
to something perhaps
unforeseen
not yet considered
i thought i had
no intention of
leaving the house
but find myself
rolling my eyes
with huff and sigh
cursing the grey
for ruining
that potential
by lunchtime
windscreens glisten with
newly welcomed sunlight
reflected blindingly
from droplets that linger
despite the fresh warmth
carried in the convective air
it no longer appears
to be "coat weather"
though the ground
is still puddled
to squelch or
splash underfoot
perhaps i could venture
outside after all
with a motivation
fuelled by this
latest change
but for all the blue
stretching the sky
there is still that
darkened mass of cloud
hanging heavy in the distance
unable to tell if it has
been weathered already
or is another downpour
yet to come
Apr 18, 2023
Apr 18, 2023 at 9:43 AM UTC
All those words
I should never have said
All those thoughts
That entered my head
Misreading situations
Placing false allegations
What am I doing here,
my mind is so unclear,
My windscreens fogging up
I'm drowning in the silence
All I want is to hear
Your voice calling out my name
It's not the same
Without you here
I can't bare to watch you leave
And I've made mistakes
It's okay, it's my fault
I'll take the blame
I'm sorry for causing you all this pain
It's not the same
It's not the same
without you here
I'm sorry
For ripping apart your heart
I'll make it up
I'll make it up
And I'm sorry
For creating all these scars
I'll patch them up
I'll patch them up
I'm sorry for giving up
I'll make it up
(Just wait and see)
I'll make it up
I will make it up
How could I have caused such hurt
When I really love her
How could I not have seen the signs
She's been signalling all this time
How can I take back all I said
I've just gone and changed everything
I don't want this change
Don't want you to go away
Please stay, please stay
I'm reaching out my hands to you
I'm reaching out my hands to you
It's not the same
Without you here
I can't bare to watch you leave
And I've made mistakes
It's okay, it's my fault
I'll take the blame
I'm sorry for causing you all this pain
It's not the same
It's not the same
without you here
I'm sorry
For ripping apart your heart
I'll make it up
I'll make it up
And I'm sorry
For creating all these scars
I'll patch them up
I'll patch them up
I'm sorry for giving up
I'll make it up
(Just wait and see)
I'll make it up
I will make it up
After all, we have been through
After all this time
I'm losing you like this
Because of my selfish antics
How could I not see
How much you were hurting deep down inside
I'm supposed to be your protection
The one that you could turn too
Never should have let you
Fight these battles on your own
I've made mistakes
I've made mistakes
Yeah I hope and pray
That one day you might forgive me
It's not the same
Without you here
I can't bare to watch you leave
And I've made mistakes
It's okay, it's my fault
I'll take the blame
I'm sorry for causing you all this pain
It's not the same
It's not the same
without you here
I'm sorry
For ripping apart your heart
I'll make it up
I'll make it up
And I'm sorry
For creating all these scars
I'll patch them up
I'll patch them up
I'm sorry for giving up
I'll make it up
(Just wait and see)
I'll make it up
I will make it up
I love you so much
I'll repair your heart
From the damage that I've done
I'll make it up
I'll make it up
I love you for all you are
Shine bright my star
Shine bright my star
I love you for all you are.
©2017 Written By Benji James
Jun 8, 2017
Jun 8, 2017 at 4:31 AM UTC
Life's the longest distance between two points:
Doggy-paddling through the present backwards
Understanding words already spoken
Right hand on the wheel, torso twisted
(As in standard reversal procedure),
Looking out the back, advancing slowly,
Careering backwards down the motorway:
We see ourselves in car windscreens becoming
Reflections of ourselves in passers-by.
Decode the numberplates, look out the sides
For chaos, chance and consciousness to coincide
And tell us that we haven't missed our turn,
Forever facing where we can't return.
Feb 20, 2011
Feb 20, 2011 at 8:23 PM UTC
Oh my, you really could not see,
That I was gloomy.
Just as the grey clouds,
Outside the window - the sun's shrouds.
You were more curious about the drops
On the windscreens,
Instead of those
That were rolling down my cheeks.
Aug 26, 2019
Aug 26, 2019 at 5:18 AM UTC
the cicada's have begun to emerge
after seventeen long years as a dormant miner
they arise, pushing through seveteen years of dust
and compounded muclch, breaking out into a brave new world
and for seventy two hours, if they are lucky
they seek to mate, to consumate to extend their species
some become garish decorations on truck windscreens
some become exhibits in a small boys jam jar zoo
some become waylaid and sing their cacophonial opus
on barren concrete patio's
some become Sunday dinners to peckish nestlings
some succeed gloriously, then die happy
some don't...succeed...and die wondering
but apparently seventeen years ago...
a lot succeded...
if the booming base opera being performed
is a gauge of the primeval drive of the cicada
it is summer eve in the burbs
and the living is..... noisy....
Nov 21, 2016
Nov 21, 2016 at 8:22 AM UTC
The squeeky wiper wakes me
the windscreens already dry
No lights in sight for miles
and I've come down from my high
Noisy nonsense in my head
frustrates me to death
the crazyness of it all
cannot be told in one breath
The capital S ruins me
but, the man finally stands
Because since he did it
he no longer holds the world in his hands
Shoulders can grow stronger
and skin so much thicker
but no one can weave through your thoughts
from the place you call your wicker.
The capital S ruins me
and I dwindle away
there is nothing left to do
nothing meaningful to say
Pictured this so different
but it blew up in my face
not leaving would leave a gap in me
but staying, just a little space
You mirrored me as I plead my case
It was a rational knee **** reaction
but right then me without you
was the only right subtraction
The Capital S dominates me
It has inherited my hateful soul
for once I was broken
now I am an empty barren hole.
Jul 6, 2012
Jul 6, 2012 at 11:59 AM UTC
Treasure is but a wanderer's lust
seeking utopia amongst the cosmic stars
it's year 2025, humanity's golden age of technology,
and a little white spaceship sets off to colonise Mars
nicknamed Nova 2, she boasts twin light-speed thrusters
polarised windscreens and a body of pure ceramite -
with a whoosh and a deafening bang
she smashes the sound barrier and streaks through the night
[#WHAM! BAM! FLASH!#]
at twenty-two hours they pass the moon
avoid a cluster of meteorite and space debris,
venturing deeper and deeper into the abyss of nothingness
their minds awestruck, their weary souls free
faced with a darkness that was un-shiftable, heavy
the danger of this mission increasingly daunting,
the longer they ignored their fears
the more the alien wilderness became haunting
what if they suddenly stopped dead
hit a snag or ran out of power?
They only had limited supplies
and the absent sun grew hotter and hotter by the hour
with the silence incessant
the sound of their own voices was obtrusive, grating,
food disgustingly vile, water going warm,
pressure steadily rising, there were concerns of the pilot fainting
--// "CALLING ELISA STARR TO THE CABIN PLEASE." //--
Elisa Starr was the cabin's dutiful cleaner
she'd clear away the astronauts ******* and occasionally mop up their sick -
for most of the crew had adapted to the lack of gravity
alas a few individuals hadn't been as quick
only 3 months in and the air had already grown stale
smelling of faint excretion and sweat,
aching and tired, she was always wiping down the interior windows
as the condensation steamed them up wet
what was the point in coming to space to slave away
when she could just do it on Earth;
once a valued member of society, a highly respectable mother of three,
surely this gruelling slavery she didn't deserve?
-//-----//-
The glowing red sphere of Mars approaches,
their destination finally (finally!) in range -
Earth was dying and this is a chance for us to start again
but isn't it already clear that we'll never change?
Sep 30, 2015
Sep 30, 2015 at 6:46 PM UTC
Came here by car,
Rode in the fast lane, past,
Concrete avenues all lined,
With suburban memorabilia.
Seen the sunrise cross the asphalt
Trundled down country lanes,
cattle tamed.
Across war torn highways,
Miles stretch out, as
The highway passes by
Feel I’ve been chasing
Down shadows,
Across endless plains
Have seen the broken hearts,
Through cracked windscreens.
Watched teardrops spatter,
Cross a dusty windshield
As a rainbow glistens
In the corner of my eye.
There’s a reason these express ways,
Reach towards the horizon.
Have travelled here,
Came by car,
But
Don’t know where
Here is.
© Nick Strong 2014
Oct 28, 2013
Oct 28, 2013 at 2:52 PM UTC
The setting light splits into pieces,
Between slanting silhouettes, caught upon a little pool of sky;
You absorb in silence, aware,
This margin of worlds is a fleeting fantasy,
Like those ten minutes between windscreens,
When moving streetlights fall upon her in streaks.
Walking with her, alone, an hour of the night,
Into deep corners of thoughts,
Time is not a dipping sunset, and yet it won't bend,
To this desire of holding it in a straight line,
And walking with her, alone, till the break of morning;
The hour passes, and that is all,
You are blessed, you know,
Even if this was the end;
You smile, and you walk on.
The day turns, a little distance has a way,
Tonight holds in its palms as a fragrance, yesterday;
Her touch breaks upon your body in the ocean breeze,
And her voice, locked in moonlit waves, pours into intimate spaces;
You lay down against the night and silent laugh,
Filling hope into the sea;
This is where you would stop, if you could,
The passing train that carries everything away.
Had it, then, really come to be,
You would remember the secret,
That something, unnamed, between you,
That blooms in mortal time,
And will forever remain god's envy.
Dec 6, 2017
Dec 6, 2017 at 7:31 AM UTC
::
Taxi
| bare metal in midday heat
| ripped edges reflecting the rays.
| ( 0 )
| Crumbling windscreens, magnet attaches,
mirrors hanging, rent, as drops towards crusher.
@@ & @ @
Death row, last journey, left only a steel obelisk.
Amalgam of plastics, metal, awaiting rebirth.
Be off away once again
when the jobs call.
Apr 23, 2016
Apr 23, 2016 at 7:35 AM UTC
One rainy afternoon against a big glass window, close to where I stayed I watched the cars slide down wet and slippery roads.
I witnessed men running down the street in search of shelter away from The cats and dogs pouring wave after wave.
What caught my eye and the attention of my mind was:
One thing.
One man.
One man fighting against the wind.
Dressed in black with a hat and a blue single sheet of plastic, which I think he called a raincoat.
Pushing, pressing and forcing himself against the rain like a thirsty man forcing himself against a helpless woman.
His destiny unknown. His identity not shown.
Forward he goes because that's where he's heading.
Sandwiched between traffic. Those ahead of him are against him those behind him bring and brought hope. Hope that man would be so kind to offer a helping had..or ride, just to get him closer to where he's heading
They all pass, wiping the water off their windscreens
while man presses on wiping the water off he's face..
Step...by...step
Oct 10, 2014
Oct 10, 2014 at 12:17 PM UTC