Whereto thy follow their hearts desire - Vol. II
Jon-Lee Paul Butler
"For those whom know of my poetry from the first volume and liked my poetry will know of the vast and vivid yet some real to life pieces of art I can produce, wherever your heart shall take you.
Life’s dramas written down into a rhyming verse and others creativity of worlds from far away places that only the minds eye can travel to. I think I got slightly carried away with my first book, with the very long written poems on a short story based idea.
However, this volume contains poems in a more relaxed and shorter time with to write and to read over. With less dark images and more for a natural yet surreal world filled with love and nature. And, practise do make perfect as I feel how this second volume is far more, on a whole aspect, better for a poetry book.
With a touch for more of real life than to imagine a world of dreams, although some are created from dreams where to believe how poetry is the essence of the mind where the visions are seen, to satisfy the body of knowing of such a place that feels real and fulfils the soul to be relieved of an achievement."
Partly dedicated to Greg. Of whom, while in deepest thought, inspired a somewhat few last poems to write.
CONTENTS.
1. A misguided life.
2. Fears by pride.
3. A day.
4. The fruits of life.
5. Addictions.
6. Is life all but a dream.
7. Piece by piece.
8. When do we learn.
9. Too much to do.
10. Life's pain.
11. Those who rule the roost.
12. Beer goggles.
13. Rain.
14. Bird world.
15. Ghost town.
16. Safe place.
17. Romantic memories.
18. The crows song.
19. When the wind blows.
20. Outside looking in.
21. Temptations.
22. Atlas.
23. Opposites.
24. Arrogant, pig-headed, self-obsessed.
25. The butterfly and the sad, lonely elephant.
26. It's a walk in the park.
27. Killer pigeons.
28. Looking back.
29. Where did it all go wrong.
30. Little me in big world.
31. Someone most loveliest.
32. Love at first sight.
33. The weather girl.
34. Silence is deadly.
35. To have an open mind.
36. The Beach.
37. The man with no name.
38. In love.
39. Stuck in your old ways.
40. The slug and leaf.
41. What is inside the cardboard box?
42. The fat sparrow.
43. Finding the answer at the bottom of the bottle.
44. Men and flowers.
45. Watching the grass grow.
46. Cherry on the top.
47. Filthy images.
48. Taken for a ride.
49. A picture lasts longer.
50. Undecided love.
51. Running away from your own emotions.
52. Echoes through your mind.
53. Your Highness.
54. Pennies from heaven.
55. The golden gate.
56. Under candle light.
57. The minds deception.
58. These four walls.
59. The dormouse in the teapot.
60. Ravers paradise.
61. The busy little bee.
62. To think too hard.
63. The night tree.
64. The erotic garden.
65. No one cares to harken.
66. Like fallen angels thou art.
67. Footsteps to sense.
68. Making love all night.
69. From a distance.
70. Fast lane.
71. The contours of a face.
72. Watching paint dry.
73. Of all the excuses.
74. Opinionated.
75. Disobedient.
76. Love is no longer.
77. Who art there?
78. The ladybird who lost her spots.
79. Visions of a perfect world.
80. When the city fell.
81. Expectations.
82. The corner.
83. Secret.
84. Spoilt.
85. Deceit.
86. Inside a glass house.
87. Love conquers all.
88. The screaming child.
89. Dreams the star had shun.
90. Visions go beyond the eyes reach.
91. The white room.
92. Darkened heart.
93. Paradise to hell.
94. Suddenly there was life.
95. A double life.
96. A state of confusion.
97. Acting the martyr.
98. House of horrors.
99. All that you were, and all that you are.
100. '666'.
101. Forgiven.
102. The girl at the window.
103. Keeping to one's side of the bargain.
104. Murder at the Palais.
105. Seasons.
106. Witches on broomsticks.
107. Unfinished business.
108. Falling.
109. The man in the moon.
110. The dark side of the moon.
111. A woman torn.
112. Life grows.
113. Trying to find my way.
114. In search of freedom.
115. A magical place.
116. Left to your own devices.
117. From the corner of my eye.
118. Attractions of love.
119. Where art thou love?
120. Left to the imagination.
121. Sensual touches.
122. The black horse.
123. Black rain.
124. Pains in life.
125. A fly in my soup.
126. Cobwebs in my cup.
127. Monkey in my pocket.
128. Shadows in the dark.
129. I dream of one day.
130. Life is a game of mercy.
131. The beast in the dark shadow.
132. The book.
133. Turn of a new leaf.
134. Evil in the vase.
135. Missing a wish.
136. An alien under my bed.
137. Hollow.
138. Dancing on the devils head.
139. Could of it been true love.
140. How long for a heart to last?
141. Where is...
142. Early spring.
143. Garden of dreams.
144. Doth the birds.
145. Dreams are made.
146. Older and wiser.
147. Sand in your eyes.
148. The cursed bride.
149. Searching.
150. Breathe.
151. The life of Spinks.
152. Like rag dolls.
153. The beginning or the end.
154. Like a moth.
155. The forbidden field.
156. To prune a fine rose.
157. Love and betrayal.
158. I am in a living dream.
159. Gone reflections.
160. Different voices.
161. Waiting for love.
162. Scarred for life.
163. Love is blind.
164. The heart is mended.
165. My love.
166. Begging for love.
167. The kiss.
168. Stole my heart.
169. Frustrated love.
170. Hard to keep contained.
171. Naturally to love.
172. Distant love.
173. Hopefully yours.
174. Valentine.
175. A world of green.
176. The black beast.
177. In the light of day.
178. Tears of an angel.
179. Love.
180. Love for the dancing ballerina.
A misguided life.
How pleasant in this life to be filled with compassion,
To admit I am in the wrong for those people I find hard to imagine.
Two wrongs may make a right,
But for whom shall this be for to delight.
I walk a path thinking of pure innocence,
But easily to be at fault quicker than an instance.
A past life that had not been fulfilled,
Left sitting on the fence with emotions all still.
History may be able to change its own course,
But the circumstances can not be altered or be false.
Yet, how do you live a life you were meant to intend,
Although by others who clearly now see you as gone round the bend.
To lay the stepping stones for you to walk upon,
But misguided and miss-stepped I surely have gone.
So who then shall give my reasons to aim for,
Before I decide to truly walk through that door.
Directions must made to be trusted,
Or the same happens again where to be flustered.
Fears by pride.
Sitting pretty with no worries in life,
Glances of happiness not to be ruined by strife.
Until someone decides to play your fate,
Like holding the key to your minds own gate.
Something to think about and have you on your toes,
What shall I do and what if nobody knows.
Blackmail possibly can be their game,
Or more for a case of who is better in a life so lame.
Now the smirky grin is wiped from your face,
Fears for your life’s emotions that fall from grace.
Pressured to keep moving on,
And to satisfy those whom are left among.
But who is this all really for,
As the stress of it all makes me do more and more.
A day.
The sun breaks out and sneaks through the cotton curtains,
Causing brightness inside of my closed eyes and head.
I take a deep breath with a mind of certain,
To arouse and be of my day from my nights bed.
I hear the birds twittering though of some to squawk,
As the windows become clearer to see out.
With the early morning orange sky my own mind begins to talk,
Of how wonderful the horizon is seen and thoughts of how long to be about.
To then turn away from this sight and be of this room again,
Planning out my routine for another moment of daylight.
Not noticing the hours to go by and then,
To take another look at the sky that is not so bright.
Blue as the clearest ocean and white clouds streaming by,
But the sun is no longer there as a horizon any more.
Had the sun really come up or did it just go as night,
Confusion with the hours yet the day is as before.
The fruits of life.
Like holding life in the palm of your own hand,
An apple, round, grown from seed.
To take a bite, a risk, a piece to make a stand,
Lasting for a moment to please.
Another moment to move on, an aim, a place to be,
But first to reach around the outside.
Before you achieve that central core for to see,
The seeds that keep this continuing life.
The soil of the earth this seed is placed,
Like mother earth it shall grow from.
With roots to make known of a human race,
Once again the cycle begins along.
Addictions.
The sugar on your lips that keep you sweet,
Almost kissing the air to keep.
But a tug on your heart that holds you back,
Like darkness hiding there in the black.
Scratching the surface to come out front,
You wish for more of the addiction to win this stunt.
To beat the race of your once sanity,
But the addiction is the key to your own vanity.
A life in ruins yet not to care for,
Because the addiction has you wanting more.
Inside your own head you see the truth,
But others try to make you be seen a spoof.
The lies within can be seen deep in your eyes,
Where the rest of your body is controlled out of mind.
Yet more and more of this clouded feeling,
To take each day as to be in a world with no meaning.
How do you confront someone who can not see up ahead,
And the answers to their questions are always unsaid.
To be left alone and withdraw into themself,
Without a care of any ones or their owns health.
Until one day you find them in a heap,
On the floor hoping their soul the Lord to keep.
Is life all but a dream.
The road is long, straight to the point yet short lived,
Miserable I may be but plenty of love to give.
Just like the window to the black cab,
Small to look out of but a great view from the back.
Attractions that do pass the driver and I by,
Monuments, people of interest and other moments with the eye.
The time ticks quickly as if in need to move on,
Yet still to absorb the attractions that appear high upon.
Like Gods standing tall yet still,
These hard ironed idols that sends me a thrill.
Visions from the past as to keep for a good sake,
Like the heavens opened for to fall to our grace.
I think to myself is it possible these can come alive,
Although as I sit here now they had ran with me to survive.
Not knowing where to be heading,
But as we are we shall continue our new living.
So had the place I been to all but a dream,
A memory to hold onto to recall one day as it seems.
Piece by piece.
In this room all silent and shut away from the rest of the house,
I sit upon the desk looking down to what it is all about.
A desk lamp on to illuminate the space I work around,
The concentration and stress upsets with the slightest sound.
Thankfully the household are all at peace,
As I look down at this imaginary world for to see.
It is a battle, a struggle up hill, a making of war,
This army fighting to protect those to live on ever more.
But the pieces are not quite all but there,
As I search for the right place making sure they fit fair.
Incomplete the battle rages on,
Until the final moment where the whole picture is upon.
An ending perhaps, a continued story to tell,
There in all its glory with how the enemy fell.
The hours go by, days, even a week,
I dare to give up as I continue on with a feeling of bleak.
Placing the pieces in priority to where they shall go,
To ease the frustration to help with the flow.
No cutting corners as this is too big to withstand,
The wanting for the complete finish being close at hand.
The gentle ticking of the clock helps to relax,
Like a rhythm to play against of a sound it lacks.
And then the last piece to place amongst,
A jigsaw picture of a battle that is done.
When do we learn.
My school days were weak,
Never to absorb in what to be teach.
Like a blind eye to for what is to be told,
I had another path to lead of a mind to enfold.
Lessons that were meant to be real,
But I looked beyond with what is in front so still.
To waive past my own shoulder looking back,
And now I see that those days were black.
Written work copied from our text books,
As to yield to the propaganda our visions took.
I see the truth but from the other side,
Like I am now of those that are told in the past life.
Where the secrets are now emerging from,
To know the truth and the false past be gone.
You are not a wise man while as a child,
The older you become the more knowledge is filed.
So the school days are not quite as to be,
Once you have aged then the wisdom is there to see.
Too much to do.
I wish I were an octopus,
With eight arms and a big head.
Then can be done all that it does,
And answer all those questions to be said.
To get everything seen to in quick time,
And have all to say with what has arrived.
So the list of things to do is all in line,
Then the worries have once again survived.
Life's pain.
I always get hurt,
No matter who or where I meet.
The path I take kicks up the dirt,
Those who come close makes the deed.
I try to make do with my life,
But it goes pear shaped.
And I end up out cried,
Tears that flow even feel faked.
The pain in life I am dealt,
Is of compassion.
No feelings to be felt,
As I continue on as it never happened.
Those who rule the roost.
There high up upon the tree top,
A crow squawking from the highest crop.
Looking down as if he is in charge,
Yes of course he is but from how far.
How he overpowers my minds vision,
Though from a long distant.
I do feed him and the others that are around,
But scarce he becomes when upon the ground.
Darlings the magpies when they approach,
As to teach the crow it is ok to be amongst folk.
Like being their eyes of anything that are close by,
As I notice the daring they are from early morning cry.
Softly, softly time will tell,
When they know who is ok to be well.
Beer goggles.
Why do beer goggles cause such a kerfuffle,
Making everything seem to be in double.
Your mind is set to aim in a place but without being corrective,
And your feelings and thoughts get thrown out of perspective.
You sense you are right no matter how much,
But argument’s persist to prove you wrong as such.
What is it that makes you believe to be sane,
When these visions before others see you clearly inane.
As if the inner being is urging to come out,
But unable to be seen and your bodily state is in doubt.
Sending you in directions you would never think for,
Sooner to be twisted by fate to follow a stranger out the door.
Waking up the next morning and not realising how you got there,
Least to remember the name of the person lying next to you who dared.
To the point where you wish those beer goggles come back again,
To have a hair of the dog so that date remains looking fair and then.
Before you know it what is done is all too late,
No excuses why you brought them back to your home estate.
You can not even escape and run out of the door,
As stirring emerges from the date from hell who I recall snored.
Messed up hair, eyes like pimples and a roughed up face,
How am I going to get this person out of my place.
Shocks come over when I see my number on the back of the hand,
What have I done to deserve this in this life I stand.
Once bitten twice shy I shall pray to be true,
Please let this be a once off and never to re-do.
Rain.
Something stirs in the atmosphere,
I lay awake in bed looking beyond out there.
The curtains open wide and the window slightly ajar,
The sound of rain splattering on the windowsill and the ground afar.
Dark clouds that give off flashes of light,
Lightning and clashes of bangs roll across but out of sight.
The nights silence allows my mind to wander,
With the cool breeze that blows after every sound of thunder.
The sense of being enclosed yet opened still,
Like a massive dark room that the clouds fulfil.
The heavy pour above from the gutter,
Water overflowing to the sound of heavy splutter.
A place on the ground to become drenched,
Like a small muddy puddle with a slight stench.
As I watch the raindrops trickle down the window pane,
Causing patterns of formations that play out a game.
I see a story about to be told from the reflection of the light,
Like an oasis opening up to enact a stage show tonight.
I could of counted the gap between each roll of thunder,
Like counting sheep jumping over a fence to fall asleep under.
But this story I have foreseen upon the glass,
Sends me into a dream where to fall asleep more fast.
Bird world.
Early morning at break of dawn like walking into a bird cage,
As I stand on my doorstep throwing bread out with the birds at play.
Some sit on the wall patiently waiting while others are in the trees,
I hear some upon the roof top but all can be heard across the breeze.
The few that dare come close enough but not for long,
As I shower them with more bread crumbs that almost hits their head upon.
Each day I watch and the more I start to realise,
How the bird world has this pattern where there are to be alive.
First come first served as the sparrows and starlings appear,
Like being the citizens of the world I yearn to be near.
Then as if some drastic measure has just been taken,
The magpies next as to inspect over the incident to awaken.
In coming flies down the pigeons of old and wise,
Like the O.A.P's of this feathered world to advise.
Still, the sparrows and starlings come dashing in like youths of the area,
Darting around in split seconds as to speed off to somewhere.
And last of all the crow kings of the feathered beasts of them all,
As I stand at my window watching quietly standing at six feet tall.
Ghost town.
This place where I live has become something of a ghost town,
Unlike before people will say 'good morning' or 'hello' without a frown.
But now it seems everyone is of their own self hate,
Walking around listening to their own minds of late.
To be inside their own spacious bubble,
And to burst another’s is a cause for trouble.
Cursed perhaps we all have become,
To remain unknown and not wanting to be among.
Even the ticking of the clock is upsetting to the silence,
Loud and vibrating to stir up mental violence.
Even the air to breathe is a force to reckon with,
As to shield upfront to prevent the person close to give.
If luckily the feet are to touch the ground,
Hopefully softly enough so not to make any sound.
But like a ghost town we drift across,
Placing ourselves to a point of having enough.
Safe place.
From a child a place to feel safe in,
A past to hold onto always remembering.
To escape in your mind of that feeling for secure,
No matter where to be no other place can do more.
When the pressure is on and the moment is not right,
I run away to this safe place to live after another fright.
To have this warmth of love to surround my fears,
To conquer the world and be proud of all that nears.
This safe place of mine from as a child,
It is my life, my rock, a place to get on all the while.
To think things over to recap over in my mind,
To start again and begin a life I know should be fine.
Until once again the path is of wrong doing,
My childhood safe place I am once again renewing.
Romantic memories.
It is always those romantic memories you think for,
Like sitting in the park, eating your chips and more.
Or, to spend the night in an Italian restaurant for two,
Glancing over a slice of pizza and a jug of beer if you do.
Remembering those silly moments like when the cream was on your nose,
Or had one too many, stumbling along the pathway just as you get home.
Holding each others hands as you stroll casually under the moonlight,
Unable to stop starring at each other as if your eyes are so bright.
An evening in front of the telly watching your favourite weepy film,
Laying in each others arms all snugged and cosy and still.
At birthdays those adorable, cuddly teddy bears with a balloon,
And a card with some silly words where after you feel like a buffoon.
Long hours chatting over the telephone about anything and everything,
Until you decide to hang up but with the lingering you first, no you, that giggles bring.
Weekends away at some considerate romantic resort,
All paid for expenses and a chauffeur driven car in the forecourt.
Photos to look back over and recall those moments when,
Weddings, parties and general snaps when out and about and then.
But never ever to have that compliment you expect to come back,
The one where you spent the night together and wondered if it were a good shag.
The crows song.
Like an alarm call I am awoken from my bed,
With the sounds of a crow squawking up ahead.
Above the rooftops he sings out loud,
Calling to another where in harmony they sound.
Very faintly far across the skies,
You can hear even more crows calling as if close by.
A song they sing that echoes across the place,
Singing in tune with each other letting them know it is safe.
In turns they take but in tune they rhyme,
Like playing a game of following my line.
When in company to be of two or three,
They sing side by side to a sound they seem.
Dancing too as they nod their heads,
One goes down the other up as the song is said.
Almost as if they are nagging to each other,
Like to cackle as to be quarrelling lovers.
But sometimes the song is of a pleasant sound,
The crows song that they sing every morning to be proud.
When the wind blows.
When the wind blows like an invisible force,
The power in its actions that brings forth its cause.
Like to hug the trees in some circular motion,
Where to pass to another to be causing a commotion.
As to hop from place to place in some spinning purpose,
But being grabbed by the branches to stay without a fuss.
Similar to when candy floss is made on the stick,
When the wind brushes past and to a tree it fix.
Or when it blows low and sweeps the blades of grass,
Like a broom to a carpet to swing to and fro while it last.
To pick up speed and soar above the rooftops,
This invisible wind that travels across.
With windswept hair blown out of place,
Feeling this invisible wall hard upon your face.
And the garden gate slowly creaking open and shut,
With the gentle squeak of the swing in the garden by the hut.
How time seems to go by more fast,
When the wind blows and the clouds hurry past.
Outside looking in.
You, yes you looking in at me,
Looking into a window like a mirror.
A life you see that you wish you will be,
Where I enact out where you see yourself a winner.
To look in this way must be hell,
Where fate has twisted this painful knife.
To see another life live out where you sense being well,
How it hurts to see me living your dream of a life.
But do you really think of me being you,
Are you not just winding yourself up.
Besides they say only one fits with the shoe,
As I try to be myself and my open mind not shut.
Although to think of me as being you but are out there,
Then where am I to be if possible of you to do.
This window of a mirror really seems unfair,
Confusing to understand but condemned too.
Temptations.
Temptations that are laid out before you,
Daring to follow them if you do.
Like pleasant surprises to satisfy that come by your way,
Grabbing your heart by the strings that they play.
Opening your eyes more wider with curiosity to see,
Tantalising your senses as you yearn for more to be.
But what is your pleasure that you so seek,
Is this the question that is answered that makes your craven weak.
To find exactly what you been looking for,
But for it to find you how wickedly is this to endure.
Like heaven sent this gift to be admired,
As long as you are not caught out and called a liar.
Sound of music, delicious food and sweet scents that seem well,
Whether to follow by ear, taste or by smell.
Triggering the brain cells of something delight,
A temptation so strong no matter how much of a fright.
Atlas.
An atlas to most is an outline of a map,
But for I looking closer is a story in my lap.
Some may realise of the images that appear,
When spoken in a certain order be told it is here.
For example, Great Britain and Ireland is a woman holding a baby,
And Greece is a place that had been washed away at sea.
But others too if you look very well,
A time many-many years ago that could of been hell.
Under water where a paradise is completely lost,
A generation wiped out and almost never to be got.
And Cupids bow is of a philosophy where it dropped from the sky,
Leaving what is the 'Tyrrhenian Sea' as the years went by.
The Bermuda Triangle is not actually a place,
It is a location lined out in a triangle shape.
Starting from the Shetlands and working your way down,
To St.Helena and back again to Bermuda to come back around.
What it is for I am still yet to discover,
But stories are of a no fly area and ships no matter what the weather.
Or perhaps it is to tell of the two most largest areas in all the world,
To come together in a huge battle that will end all where no one is left to tell.
And if you look in a certain way at the book,
The Russian rabbit comes in view and notice his lucky foot.
But why will Norway, Sweden and Finland be of good luck,
Or maybe this little birdy of Britain that can tell me before I give up.
Had it been she were distracted by a well endowed man to look away,
Almost dropped the baby in the bag but luckily France came by to catch at play.
Can Spain really be seen as having kicked the bucket,
The only place to put the boot in is Italy if it done it.
And the horn of Africa is actually Somalia,
Where ancient ships sailed towards the red sea to warn of any carrier.
To the sound of a large horn being sent across the tidal waves,
Indicating of the land that is about to come by there way.
And soon the time when the bells will ring,
Saudia Arabia and India when the land will swing.
Flicking the Indonesia switch like a lighter,
Where Australia is the burning flame when New Guinea is on fire.
The word England meaning 'End of Land',
When they believed the world was flat and not round.
So Christopher Columbus jumped into his ship,
And sailed the Atlantic because he could not believe it.
How the borders also play out in line if it can,
Like the frightened running away woman of Pakistan.
So now a map is more than just areas in a book,
It is more to detail when you take a more closer look.
Opposites.
The words I speak seem to be of cheese,
When we try to talk.
Like an annoying itch to cause you to sneeze,
As to be powder from chalk.
While sitting upon at the table,
As I pass the salt.
But with a frown on your face like a cursed fable,
Pepper is more not to be at fault.
A cup of tea,
To offer at a time to relax.
But you hesitate and mumble coffee,
To look over your shoulder at that.
When things are bright,
And all is seemingly well.
Where to be black and white,
In the darkness I tell.
A time of being cold,
No matter what time of day.
To speak out being bold,
As you swelter away.
Keeping on top of things to be clean,
Even if for only five minutes.
But sooner than to dream,
The dirt is back to live in it.
A question to ask if to be fast,
But not as clever to be.
A feeling to be slow that lasts,
Dumber more I seemingly.
Having a lot to say,
So to speak my mind.
But rather to go away,
Where to be silent for some time.
And then where you are rich.
Like some battle to be won,
That poor me has a stitch,
From laughter to never be undone.
Arrogant, pig-headed, self-obsessed.
Seemingly I am there to be surround,
By arrogant, pig-headed, self-obsessed.
Do they really think around them the world is mound,
Only to dig a hole for themselves and no less.
Written all over their stupid face,
This smug looking grin.
Thinking every word spoken is in their place,
Only to make themselves look even more dim.
Can be called vain in certain ways,
But even this can be out done.
Exaggerating so much each day,
The pain of putting up with among.
The life you wish for you seem to think,
It involves me to this point of.
But dare I even to blink.
Or your mind may wander off.
Already made up and convinced,
Leaving me to be withdrawn.
And in my self pity state sink,
To beg for mercy and be gone.
A hole to open up and swallow me whole,
To remove this annoyance.
Creepy to be on my soul,
As I wish to be left of this arrogance.
Yet still perverse you are,
Pig-headed if there ever was a word.
Digging your heels in too far,
As the reason becomes more absurd.
Pear shaped everything goes,
As you painfully continue being self-obsessed.
But what I am trying to let you know,
Is when will you stop annoying my head.
The butterfly and the sad, lonely elephant.
Colours such bright and beautiful,
This land it holds to admire.
Flowers that whisper of being delightful,
Attracting a butterfly to inspire.
Days it spends flying around,
Upon a petal it rests.
Spread all across the ground,
The nectar and wonderful scent.
Like a large bed across the way,
Filled with colour and perfume.
With the bees gathering nectar all day,
The birds in the trees with a nest for a room.
A gentle breeze lifts the butterfly high,
Away it fly’s across the plain.
Not knowing where it to fly on by,
When it reaches a whole new game.
The colours not so as before,
Dull and dreary in the shade.
Woodlands of browns and beiges and more,
So too this odd looking shape.
Wrinkly as the bark on the trees,
But grey as the wettest cloud.
Dark pitiful eyes that do not please,
And a long trunk, thick and round.
The butterfly lands on this hard head,
With ears the same as the butterflies wings.
A lumpy surface where it to be led,
This sad, lonely elephant to meet on the wind.
It's a walk in the park.
An open wide gate,
Sunrise shining through the park.
Pathways leading all around this estate,
As I hear gentle echoes of a dogs bark.
Sparkles of morning dew,
Reflecting off the sun light.
Like large drops of transparent gems or two,
A morning filled with pure delight.
Shuffling sounds of feet,
As joggers quickly pass me by.
Lonesome people on a bench for a seat,
Some reading the paper as others look up to the sky.
The distinct aroma of coffee in the air,
Drifting across this cool breeze.
Sounds of loud traffic over there,
As my nose, ears and now eyes look past the trees.
The start of a new day,
With the locals all out and about.
School children hurrying along their way,
And typically one of them being a lout.
Men in lycra cycling in a dash,
Lanes set aside for the not so.
Casually strolling without time to catch,
As the wind gives off a gentle blow.
Dust picking up from the path,
A slight wink of my eye.
And blossom to sway past,
With the open space now more wide.
A woman on skates as they take their dog for a stroll,
With headphones on drowning out the noise.
Everyone around all knowing where they want to go,
As I reach to the further side to spot a group of boys.
Leaving this enclosed open place,
Seeing another flow of cars.
Something causes the doubt upon my face,
As I wish to be once again in the park.
Killer pigeons.
An ordinary day,
Sun just about rising,
Birds in the tree singing,
And flying across the way.
Usually to throw out bread,
As I am awaken,
By the crows I had befriend,
Something I do daily.
I looked up in interest,
To see what they normally eat,
Down in the tower,
Biscuits soaked in blood and raw meat.
To do so for a moment to please,
Although there are others,
Sparrows, Starlings, Magpies,
To also enjoy this deed.
Intently not if I knew,
As I peep through the twitching of the curtain,
To something odd to happen and new,
Killer pigeons for certain.
Their eyes turned deep red,
Sharp teeth appeared from their beak,
Their colour turning them looking dead,
As my knees suddenly turn weak.
The raw meat must of turned them,
But for a pigeon to become nasty,
Will certainly soon to be known,
To something I be known as a zombie.
Thieving pigeons I call these vermin,
Why had I thrown them this bloody bread,
A fight the crows and others now to put up,
This I truly never did meant.
As all hell breaks loose,
Chasing each other across the skies,
Hearing them squawking and twittering to end so soon,
With feathers floating down nearby.
Oddly enough the pigeons life,
To end just as soon as,
Eyes popping out suddenly,
And a bang they disappear before my eyes.
Looking back.
Never can I look on,
The future is yet to know.
And how those years that are gone,
Pleasurable to remember so not to let go.
Memories to hold dear,
Moments in our short lived lives.
Places, people, events for to leer,
All set in the deepest corners of our mind.
Times in the past to make us happy,
When we suddenly realised what we missed.
Looking back in the years of when not to worry,
Where everything all gentle and best wished.
Where did it all go wrong.
Where did it all go wrong,
I am sure she do not even know.
The past that had been and gone,
The future even she do not know where to go.
I trace back over my steps,
Thinking it all through.
She ignores the fact we ever met,
Something I wish never happened too.
Years wasted trying to make something of our life,
And still there is nothing to reconcile for.
To learn from my past mistakes and try,
Once again to live on and do more.
To pick up the pieces and place them apart,
Work out the bad and the good ones.
To then place them in a more fairer start,
So the whole moment has again begun.
Little me in big world.
Like a bug on a long blade of grass,
A droplet of rain water falls.
A dragonfly whizzing by fast,
And a spider hurryingly crawls.
Nectar from a flower blows by in the wind,
A hummingbird across the breeze.
The loud echo of an earthworm yet dim,
The ground as a landslide falling to my feet.
Marching sound of tiny footsteps,
An army of ants charging by.
From their antenna a vibration is met,
And a transparent green butterfly.
Suns rays beaming down,
Broken and creating prisms of light.
Like glowing tents yet not round,
In a world so colourful and bright.
Someone most loveliest.
With long blonde hair,
Eyes looking at me so fair.
Cheeks as pink as a pretty rose,
And lips for a place to go.
Skin so soft and smooth,
A walk with a sexy move.
A scent to linger on and on,
With delicate hands to place upon.
A voice spoken so sweet,
That sticks to mind with every meet.
A pulse felt within a deep breath,
Someone most loveliest.
Love at first sight.
A path to be lost on,
Blinded by the lights upon.
No sound matters here,
Not knowing what to find I fear.
Worthless life seems to be,
No matter what to do or see.
Focusing forward onto a place to aim,
A future I hope to successfully gain.
Wise knowledge spoken to steady oneself,
To learn from the experienced but only I to be dealt.
Then a twist of fate occurs,
Standing before me in all their wares.
Everything suddenly has a meaning,
The answer before me with whom I am seeing.
The final destination I have now reached,
As I take the bull by its horns and beseeched.
The weather girl.
Standing beside the map to foretell,
Her bodily shape all curved and well.
Her bosoms round like the mountain tops,
Dusted with snow like cream of the crop.
Her eyes tell me the night to be clear,
Sparkling above with a smile so dear.
To brighten the day with a glowing love,
Soft delicate hands that tenderly point up.
Indicating the rain to parts of our land,
As tears of joy to upon this man.
With clouds so white and pure,
Every silver lining wanting for more.
Cheerful for those few moments to forecast,
If only to concentrate on the weather that past.
But the weather girl is all I need,
To tell me how the day is, indeed.
Silence is deadly.
Playing dumb or just plain senile,
Pretending to not know you to have peace for a while.
Like counting sheep that leap across the fence,
But with one eye slightly open to watch with intense.
Invisible possibly well may just be,
Like a ghost walking around all free.
The chill that goes down your spine,
May be that cold company there in time.
Ears burning knowing of gossiping twosomes,
To tell of a conversation that tongues have loosened.
But when all is said and done,
The silence is deadly more than for one.
Listening to the inside of your own head,
Echoes going around to every whisper said.
To have an open mind.
To listen is to have an open mind,
Taking a few moments of your time.
To sit back and watch all that goes on,
Listening to the sounds of the area to be still upon.
The creaking of the tree trunk swaying in the wind,
To the whistling of the birds a tune they bring.
The gentle words of children playing nearby,
And the odd click from the chain of a child’s bike.
A cool breeze rustling the leaves from the tall hedge,
Crunching sound from feet across the path they pledge.
Wearily at a pace the dog out on his stroll,
Soft panting to a rhythm on the way they go.
Traffic at a distance to sound like crashing waves,
Where there to be a beach somewhere far away.
A phone ringing from an empty room,
Like sirens of an emergency to answer by whom.
Ticking from the clock loud and blunt,
And a sip from the coffee mug I hold out in front.
Sounds that are heard loud and clear,
Taking a deep breath they are remembered so dear.
The Beach.
Driving in our convertible car,
The wind blowing in our hair,
The wife for a navigator to know where we are,
And the odd question, 'when are we there?'.
Hopeless is she to read the map,
Even more annoying to the 'are we there yet?'
Like trying to fight with a large monster on her lap,
Still my wife is she and I smile as I say, 'not yet pet'.
The silk scarf around her neck flapping in the wind,
I imagine it tighten to her moans and groans.
As I concentrate with the road ahead as not to give in,
With this heat that has caused to speak with offensive tones.
A hot summers day and the sun is brighter than any star,
Off to the beach we both decided upon.
And to take out for a drive our old model of a car,
With our best clothes that we casually have on.
Then above the hill the sky opens out,
To see for miles and miles across.
With the smell of the sea air to breathe through our snout,
And the wife still making sure we know who is boss.
Instructing to turn at the next road,
But I know to keep driving straight along.
But just as she is to do so with hand codes,
To demand I obey her say if I want to live on.
As she who must be obeyed,
I delicately smile and grip the steering wheel hard,
If only back home my wife had stayed,
Perhaps today will be more happier by far.
Pulling in by the parking bay,
Deep felt cheers are building.
The radio in the car is turned off from what had played,
For the journey if only to a more pleasant feeling.
Hurryingly along the wife charges across the plain,
Leaving me to bring the hamper and lock the car.
As she holds onto her hat and scarf almost blown away,
As I notice the tide crashing on the beach not very far.
The soft gentle waves of the ocean,
Such smooth sound to hear.
That drives that deep emotion,
Like the tide coming back again and again and so near.
The man with no name.
Deeply set in the eyes,
Emotions that are not of sorrow.
With a dark shadow hidden from the skies,
To have a background dark and hollow.
Time do not settle with his company,
As if time had not ticked by.
The feeling of being lonely,
To been as though not of you and I.
Someone who stands here,
Yet not to be recognised at all.
Are we meant to be aware,
To accept this person and feel a fool.
For a man with no name,
His presence causes a chill.
Uncomfortable, out of place and lame,
Like a cat amongst the pigeons to thrill.
In love.
I can sit here and ogle at you all day,
Chat for hours on end too.
But I feel we are going our own separate ways,
And there is nothing I can do.
Wanting you to send me a sign,
Something that tells straight to my heart.
So to think of you in my everyday mind,
To reassure we are not going to depart.
Your name is now like all the others,
But I want you all to myself.
Embraced with love and kisses that smothers,
My lonely being for to be in love and well.
Stuck in your old ways.
For you yesteryear was only yesterday,
Stuck in your old ways.
But do you know what day of the year it is,
As time seems to be stuck in your head like this.
You probably invented the mouldy old smelly cheese,
Left there forever to gather dust and whiff on the breeze.
Holes in your slippers and socks and no doubt,
In your pants that you wear always while out.
Newspapers dated from months and years ago,
Yesterdays news but you sure keep on telling me so.
The price of bread with what it cost,
Counting the pennies you feel sadly lost.
Hopeless if the area changes with the generation,
A sense of being unfound and the lonely emotion.
The haircut still trimmed like when you were a teen,
And the clothes you wear are also dictated for to be seen.
An age that is never to grow old,
Stuck in your old ways and forever to be cold.
The slug and leaf.
A border in the garden colourful and green,
With flowers and plants whether small, tall and lean.
Laid out all in a neat row,
At intervals different flowers will grow.
One day a slug no bigger than your finger,
Slithering along leaving a shiny sticky trail to linger.
Started to munch on the first green leaf,
Took him all day without much disbelief.
Then to give a tiny silent sluggish burp,
After eaten the leaf and onto another to the sound of a slurp.
Another day passes as he munches on this one too,
Nibbling around the edge to bigger mouthfuls in the centre to move.
It must of took him a whole month without stopping,
To eat everything in the border where to leave nothing.
And all there were left in the plants and flowers place,
Was a giant slug, slimy and a huge grin upon his face.
What is inside the cardboard box?
A box square and made of cardboard,
Curious to know what is inside.
Pretty and colourful to endure,
With the sealed closed flaps to abide.
Dare I to open it and peep in,
Just as it starts to move slowly across the floor.
A gaze to linger and become somewhat dim,
Curiously and curiously even more.
No sound comes from this box,
As I wait patiently for it to do something else.
A sudden small leap like a playful fox,
And rolls slowly on its side like it had fell.
Fearfully wanting to pick it up and listen,
But to the soft shuffling noise.
I wonder if it is a cute adorable kitten,
Or some furry animal as toys.
The odd bumps and jumps and the skid,
Like the box is alive and wanting to play.
As it rolls and crawls like a young kid,
Keeping me waiting all day.
Then it stops, silence, no more moving,
My patience has been sustained.
I grab the box and open it without assuming,
To the surprise of an empty, cardboard box I now had gained.
The fat sparrow.
Daily bread is broken up in pieces,
Thrown out on the grass for all the birds it pleases.
All sorts of birds come passing by,
In the morning, afternoon or before it turns night.
Curtains still closed while listening to the sound,
From awoken to the early cries of the birds on the ground.
The early crow song to the rattling magpie,
With the cooing of the pigeon and the twittering sparrow to abide.
A whistling blackbird and the very rare hammering of the green woodpecker,
But of all there is one that stands out from all to see without an endeavour.
Is a fat sparrow that had eaten more than it should,
In the skies it tries to keep up with the others if it could.
Like being late for a meeting that a crowd it brings,
As it dips in the air and struggles to flaps it wings.
On the ground it wobbles and rolls as when it heads across,
Catching up with the others for more bread before all is lost.
Signs left to reveal of his overweight presence,
Like trodden down patches in the grass and dents in the fences.
When on the roof you can hear the heavy trod,
As he walks along with a bump, thump and to the ground it drop.
Yet still he is cute and adorable to see,
As he lives around here with the others to be.
Watching his fellow feathered fledgling look up to him,
Like an elder of a fat bird that they look at with a whim.
So if ever you wish to seek for the fat sparrow,
Look for the bush with the slanted branch that comes narrow.
Sitting in his larger than size for a nest,
To make room for his oversized breast.
Finding the answer at the bottom of the bottle.
From the first glass poured from the opened bottle,
Feels the start of a path to take that you wish to follow.
Slowly thinking it over and taking your time,
Watching the liquid go down as you sip your wine.
Not to give up as you seek to find the answer,
To all your problems to bring to mind and glance over.
Then after several glasses drank in the night,
To the bottom of the last drop you ponder over in the light.
Looking through the opened top down at your feet,
Magnified to take in larger than your usual meet.
Is this the answer that you shall wish to find,
At the bottom of the bottle that now crosses your mind.
Shaking the last drop out into your glass,
Like those loose pennies you desperately want from the jar.
An empty bottle with a message found somewhere on the beach,
But come to this final bit and you might as well drank a bottle of bleach.
Men and flowers.
A bouquet for an occasion or a date,
Apologetic, sympathy or for just being late.
Signed with a name on the card resting upon,
Sometimes anonymous to leave you guessing who from.
Colour, scent and many for a vase,
But have you noticed how difference of how long they last.
See men tend to stick with the usual types,
Like tulips, roses, lilies and those that hype.
Glanced over from the common next door garden,
At times picked up from the garage for you to dare pardon.
However, women are more of an exotic taste,
Orchids, gladioli and those extra bits that are not of waste.
Delicately placed in a particular style,
Enjoying the moment for that short while.
So men and flowers are just a novelty to give,
When in need to say those words from a lovers tiff.
Watching the grass grow.
Sitting in the garden shed out back,
Tidying up the tools and any old crap.
A sunny afternoon wondering what to do,
Having already read the paper after the early morning dew.
A cup of tea sits upon the work top,
As noises of clutter be heard non-stop.
The odd glances from the window,
By the old dear watching below.
Out comes the deck chair for to sit and rest,
Sipping cup of tea and the crossword to beat his best.
Then the hanky with tied knots in the corner comes out,
On the top of his head it goes as he places without a doubt.
Snoring aloud just as he nods off to sleep,
But soon to be awaken by the shuffling feet.
A question of 'what you be doing out here',
To reply 'watching the grass grow my dear'.
Cherry on the top.
Sitting at the bar all on my tod,
An empty glass from the one drink.
Drowning my sorrows from acting a sod,
Giving me some time to over think.
Not that I am a mischievous person,
Though times I tend to put my foot in it.
To clear the air and let nothing else worsen,
As I count the seconds on the clock aloud they tick.
Then comes in busting out of her front,
The one person I thought I never will see.
Making her way over like on a hunt,
The love of my life who I shall always forever be.
Just this moment was not the right time,
If anything to pile things on more to strop.
Yet still here I stand with all that is mine,
And to complete the cherry on the top.
Filthy images.
Filthy images appear inside your mind,
Wondering for that split second of time.
Leaving you surprised with what you may see,
A tormented memory that wont let you be.
Seeking to find something that you expect,
Ironically to come across something else instead.
But ignorance overwhelms to carry on,
To chuck salt over your shoulder into the devils eyes upon.
Temptation to be led into a world of deceit and betrayal,
If this is how those images will truly prevail.
A darker side to a life that is unknown,
But guesses of around the corner is where the trouble is sown.
To reap is seen by others to detest,
Though to trust the right people is one of life’s tests.
For condemnation can twist the hands of fate,
Innocently are but looked upon as one of their mates.
Even if it is condonable after the deed is done,
To live on is for pastures new to another life as one.
Hoping corruption is not settled in the back of the mind,
Or before you know it those from the past creep up to find.
Taken for a ride.
Standing here on a platform all on my own,
Hands in my pockets with only a thought of where to go.
Looking to my right waiting for the train to pull in,
A few other people around and the odd bird whistling.
Patiently I stand thinking soon the train to arrive,
But it will be an hour or so before I be on my way for a ride.
The odd humming sound comes from some ones headphones,
Tapping feet from boredom and gossiping couples wanting to get home.
Flickering from the lights on the ever changing sign,
Something I turn my head to look for to check the time.
Yet still I gaze on to my right looking down the track,
Hoping to see something of the train to appear way out back.
The tannoy giving off the odd announcement a moment beforehand,
But only for the opposite platform of the approaching train to stand.
I begin to tap my hands on the inside of my pocket to my legs,
Playing this tune and beating my thighs to a song invented in my head.
Up-tempo the tune suddenly becomes as I whistle along,
Hoping to increase the ticking of the clock to bring the hour upon.
As if to pass the hour away more sooner than to expect,
To look again at the sign with the clock but only five minutes had sped.
Lost in this musical world where nothing else seems to be real,
Keeping one ear open in case of missing the call of the train coming in still.
Then before you know it the train is seen beyond the bridge,
Shining light in the front like a twinkling star in the day to give.
Overwhelming feeling and the tune I suddenly stop to sing,
But to then tap my feet as to be at the ready to board and the ride begins.
A breeze passes by and blows my hair to the side,
As the train pulls in and to the sound of my own sigh.
The conductor pulls out and waves his flag to his whistle blown,
The doors open as he stands there looking up and down all alone.
I finally board the train and take a seat by the window for a view,
As I am now taken for a ride on a journey to a place of new.
A picture lasts longer.
As if it had been only yesterday,
Pondering over with the past.
To gaze as you wish had stayed,
And to realise how quickly the time goes fast.
A picture lasts longer to hold to mind,
Presuming upon the right story to tell.
To look for more pictures to find,
Making those sad memories once again well.
To bring them back alive again into the room,
Taking in everything to remember for.
A past life of joy that became so gloom,
But in the back of the mind is what is thought of more.
Still the life while held in my hand,
The point of where it all stopped.
A grip upon my thoughts to where I stand,
To mesmerise and continue with a life I adopt.
Tormented and heartbroken the feelings are,
As the tears fall and wash away the vision.
Like a ghost came to see me from afar,
And to go back to where it came without any decision.
Undecided love.
Something keeps this smile upon my face,
As I lay here on the fresh cut grass.
Picking daisies and buttercups from my usual place,
As my mind wanders to a love somewhere afar.
Loves me, loves me not, as I pick the petals from the flower,
And a space left by my name to add on the wall.
Yearning and burning is this wanting flame of power,
With my mind drifts to a place high up and tall.
Plenty of fish in the sea to catch,
But only frogs are to be kissed.
Of all the ones that could be a match,
The empty space remains not to be writ.
Perhaps undecided love is the answer,
Not knowing which name to put beside mine.
But then when there are many to ponder over,
All the rest will just have to join the line.
Until this day arrives where love will conquer all,
And the frogs will be chucked back into the pond.
My heart shall remain open and yet doubtful,
To allow the honest and earnest true one to bond.
Running away from your own emotions.
To seek high and low for the one true love,
The one that gets the feelings on the clouds above.
Miles trekked to find who you wish to be all,
Everything satisfying and tempting to their feet you fall.
Like a dream about to truly come true,
Wanting the one that shall forever not make you blue.
To hold onto for eternally and never to die,
The heart beating continuously together in rhyme.
Their beauty holds you in their deep felt grace,
That no other is seen to be any more than in this place.
To know they live for the same true wish,
Hoping around the corner is their presence to not miss.
But the place you travel for miles and hours to get to,
Surely it is not running away from your own emotions within you.
Echoes through your mind.
Alarm bells ringing from the early morning call,
And the bottles rattling on the milk cart.
Loudly and linger to yawn when to stand tall,
With splashing water to fill up the bath.
Whistling kettle on a high pitched tone,
The radio clicks on and plays.
Toast popping up from the toaster and I slightly moan,
As I ponder on for the rest of my day.
Rustling leaves from the wind in the tree outside,
And birds making their usual mating sound.
Fast cars whizzing past by,
To get to their place they have not yet found.
Footsteps of people walking the streets,
My keys jingle as I close the creaky door.
A plane high up in the sky with clouds it meets,
Next doors dog barking out for something more.
School playground filled with screaming kids,
Traffic lights bleeping for to cross.
Shouts from an open door where men make their bids,
And I get a lecture from my fat mean old boss.
The sounds of echoes through your mind,
Daily to have to go through.
A rest for silence where there is no time,
Unsettled the mind is in life with what we do.
Your Highness.
Your highness high in the sky,
Shining a light that gloriously beams across.
I am over-shadowed with those who creep by,
Blinding my true meaning of life where I am lost.
Such a long time I have been without,
Your guiding touch and warmth.
My paths visions are always now in doubt,
As long as you are not here to warn.
Your highness the ruler of this land I live,
I no longer hear for the echoes are diverted.
Your loving voice can not reach to give,
The domination I have always been wanted.
Until the time we meet again for the fulfilling wisdom,
I shall walk in the shadows alone and cold.
Hoping one day you will be bring your true vision,
To lay the path I really need to walk and be bold.
Pennies from heaven.
Fallen from the sky,
Are pennies from heaven.
To land by the feet near I,
Like to rain heavily to beckon.
Mysteriously to appear,
For a deed not yet seen.
To gather so to keep near,
As more to fall making it keen.
Hands opened together to gather,
But to pour over the side.
Shining pennies that cause to lather,
So too with washing the face with to hide.
Pennies from heaven that have come clean,
With not a cloud in sight.
How so to fall down so free,
Wonders of a castle way up high.
The golden gate.
Seen for miles away shining bright,
High upon the mountain in the clouds.
An entrance to a place that holds a light,
With an atmosphere that beams across so proud.
A task to get to as you see it shine,
Seen as a kingdom to reach.
With miles to trek and ledges to climb,
And the clouds surrounding as to besiege.
This golden gate so shiny and new,
With golden peacocks to each side.
Gloriously reflecting from the skies of blue,
And the song being called to attract and abide.
Nothing can be seen beyond these gates,
Just warmth and light and an attracting call.
A place to wonder on for that is not innate,
Pleasantly of a feeling that need not to fool.
With an opening that sends a prism of love,
The direction is wanting only to follow.
But when seen from up high above,
It leaves my surprised mind mysteriously hollow.
Under candle light.
The candle burns in the wind,
And whistling through the creaky wooden door.
Flickers with browns and oranges where to be dim,
A chill filling my room causing me to think more.
I try to write on this sodden paper,
With my vision all blurred and distant.
Tiny scrawls of words to savour,
As my mind plays with the light for an assistant.
The atmosphere outside is hellish to the time,
Listening to every sound there is.
Where havoc to be tempting with my mind,
Patiently I continue to write so not to resist.
The wax dripping slowly down the edge,
Causing shadows to play on the walls.
Creating a world in my head to pledge,
Writing down more and more in whispers they call.
My eyes chasing an invisible thing around,
Trying to pick up every word in need to be said.
Like a fly that pesters with its buzzing sound,
Echoes through my ears with tales in my head.
Time passes without any notion,
The candle slowly burns down to its end.
The ink well almost dried up with its lotion,
To wish not to place my quill back without intend.
The minds deception.
Being in a confused state,
Where the mind reacts of late.
Seeing the opposite like in a mirror,
When directions are muddled to endeavour.
The mind to be separated from the rest,
As the body enacts to do its best.
To step forward with your act,
But to follow with three back.
Thoughts to do as you think in front,
Only to do so but the minds deception has won.
The plan ahead is not as you wish,
Yet still to collect with the motions that give.
An empty mind once the deed is brought,
Being delirious when to stand and gather your thoughts.
A deception of the mind when not to think,
When the body reacts to a careless something.
These four walls.
Standing in these four walls,
Once thought where not to fall.
But then the day had come,
Where I were to be surely done.
The dust from the bricks fell,
And revealed myself in a cage of hell.
As if the wind had blew the house down,
To leave only the metal bars that were around.
An animal I felt trapped inside,
To see suddenly fear appear in my life.
From nowhere a beast came charging towards,
Snarling teeth, hot breath and large sharp claws.
To scream but for no one to hear my cries,
As I fall back on myself and wonder how this to abide.
Then as for some reason to save my soul,
A giant one-eyed monster resembling a troll.
Came running across to hit the beast on its head,
With his clump the beast was down and looked surely dead.
Only for the one-eyed troll to pick up this cage,
Like a new pet he found for to carry away.
Another scream to fill the hot air,
But no one around to hear me of nowhere.
Am I now seen as a feast carried in a cage,
Like a hen bought from the market today.
Only wilder with these huge beasts from hell,
Will I live to be able to tell.
The dormouse in the teapot.
In my garden filled with wild flowers,
Neatly cut grass and colours all bright.
Scattered around on the ground are a few items,
An old wellington boot, a rusty bucket and a rope pulled tight.
To give this distinctive English garden look,
Where all year round in bloom for those sunny afternoons.
To also see an old teapot that is situated in this enclosed nook,
Where I once found a dormouse all curled up in a snooze.
This become to be in my garden a purpose for improvement,
Sitting there watching the bees and butterflies and wild birds.
Patiently awaiting to see a sudden movement,
To see a twitching nose from a cluttering lid I heard.
All calm and still I look on wondering what to happen next,
Quickly to pop his head back with the sound of the closing lid.
And then his long thin tail pokes out of the spout as I closely inspect,
Whisking it back in again as the teapot jerks to once again be hid.
Excitement fulfils my now overjoyed state,
To see this little friend I now call of my own.
How pleased I had left this teapot out one day late,
Where to pour the old tea in the ground where seeds are sown.
With the wind picking up and the long growth sways,
The whistling across the spout gives me cause.
Where to find some dried grass from the warmest days,
I stuff in the hole and make his home more to applause.
And as if I knew what he were to wish for,
Pops out his twitching nose to see me close by.
Sensing my friendship as to see much more,
As he continues to look up right into my eyes.
The dormouse in the teapot has a part in my life,
Where my garden is now a magical place.
A furry friend in the corner he hides,
That each day puts a smile on my face.
Ravers paradise.
The soft gentle feeling upon your face,
Fluffy white clouds to be seated on.
With rhythmical sounds that fill the place,
And lights to dazzle your mind and beyond.
A wave length shared amongst them all,
Happy smiles that keep you going.
Eyes wide open that keep you not to fall,
Uplifted to a cloud that your own mind is showing.
Euphoric comfort that is air to breathe in,
The moving bodies that make the crowd roar.
Dj spinning the decks on a motion non-stopping,
Where their hearts are fulfilled to the core.
The bass, the rhythm, the bleeps and bounces,
Enchanting the mind through out the whole night.
Random subjects spoken with odd looking glances,
Where all and everyone is seen so bright.
A ravers paradise to be in an atmospheric state,
A warehouse, a marquee, a nightclub or bar.
That has those souls enjoying the night till late,
Whether to come from near or from afar.
The busy little bee.
To my surprise there on the windowsill,
A bumble bee seated quiet and still.
Looking in through the glass pane,
Taking a breather from the distance he came.
Cute to see and admiring too,
As I open the window to see if he moves.
With a little buzz of his wings,
He reaches one leg up towards my finger I bring.
Seemingly all breathless and taking a rest,
He tells me he is alright with his tiny leg.
The busy little bee must of had a hard day,
Working himself to a point of where he then stayed.
But not for long he were to be,
Just as I turn my back away he went all free.
To think too hard.
Pressure building inside the mind,
Wanting that point to reach in time.
Searching around for an answer,
Where in four walls to glance over.
Emptiness lingers in your thoughts,
Like a game of roulette to the sound of the ball.
Spinning around the edges of the minds creation,
Finding an idea to satisfy the intense patience.
To draw blood from a stone,
Something out of nothing emerges alone.
To think too hard squeezes the brain cells,
Where to finally find something that settles you well.
The night tree.
The night tree stands tall yet arched,
All alone and silver looking so bright.
Curved in the middle and shiny bark,
That absorbs the energy from the moonlight.
Large single leaves that flap in the breeze,
With every overcast of a dark cloud one falls.
To continue on drifting across to somewhere free,
And a whistling sound to beckon with its call.
The night tree seen as a vision for the next day,
Following the silver leaf that sends a message across.
The moonlight beaming down to light up its way,
For our weary lives to think for the next day got.
Standing there all curved and no branches,
Like a solid piece of metal grown.
With jewels of leaves that wishes are granted,
To another place to be sown.
The night tree that stands here in the open field,
For all to see under the brightest night.
Growing leaves on its trunk for visions to build,
Sending out hopes to follow of light.
Always there to see to never be bare,
A new leaf to admire and think on for.
Giving us the thoughts so to care,
The moment it falls the wind picks up spreading out more.
The erotic garden.
A pathway of a gentle bend,
Like the curves on a beautiful body.
Perfume scents that flowers send,
To create a feeling of amatory.
Passion flowers all colourful and delight,
With the soft ground to walk upon.
The suns rays beaming down so bright,
Giving a haze to follow along.
Small steps up to a raised bed,
To climb that sensual place.
A bench to rest your weary head,
As the sexual emotions appear on your face.
The heat causing a surrounding warmth,
To breathe deep and passionate.
Caressing the skin like a misty haunt,
To be in the erotic garden my love I put.
No one cares to harken.
Down the path past the trees,
Where a large rock is.
The water flows by free,
And a bridge you can not miss.
Upon the soft mild wind,
You hear turmoil and strife.
A place that love do not bring,
As those make most of their life.
Homes now under darkness,
Where their minds are all blank.
No one cares to harken,
As if their past ship had sank.
Hopeless to wander by,
Without a care in the world.
Even the young rebel within their sighs,
To be cursed with under a spell.
The dark clouds persist,
Where happiness no longer shines.
Miserable and looks for those depressed,
Where had the love gone in this time.
Gloomy and solemn as shadows to bare,
The want to brighten up their place.
But the hearts are filled with spiteful wares,
As the sorrow builds up into my own face.
Like fallen angels thou art.
Thou you see as angels,
Are thee cause of downfall,
Like fallen angels thou art.
To play the happy pipes,
Where art thou to follow,
Thee shall no longer follow anymore.
A bargain of a mind,
That thy to be convinced,
For thou to witness and disperse.
As thee live in between,
The planes of heaven and hell,
Where thou to send the angel back.
Left art thee to succumb,
To the pleasures and pain,
Of thou suffering in the angels place.
Footsteps to sense.
Footsteps to sense been here before,
But of a past I no longer know anymore.
A future I feel I already lived,
Of a life that I never did give.
Omens leading me on that same path,
Only damned I am of an empty start.
Taken possession of a name that is known,
As to inherit some ones once lived home.
Guidance so to not step out of place,
So to keep a steady look upon my face.
Although the better the devil you know,
With fears of insecure feelings if not to show,
To follow in the correct footsteps,
For those that have already met.
Making love all night.
With eyes that will undress,
Soft tender lips to caress.
A grasp to hold tight,
When making love all night.
The gentle touch of her bosom,
A complete stranger this woman.
Picked up from that evenings bar,
Where to penetrate my piece as far.
Her hardened nipple touches my face,
As I grab her buttocks to separate.
To enter further and deeper in,
Where her hot wet vagina begins.
Sliding slowly yet eagerly up and down my shaft,
To take hold of her waist as the pleasures start.
Kissing her stomach and licking her torso,
She grabs my head to her breasts not wanting to let go.
With the built up sweat on our bodies,
Helping to slide more effortfully.
Then the intense orgasm after an hour,
To swallow my whole load with extreme power.
From a distance.
From my window where I gaze,
As you pass by my place.
To see how you look for myself,
This gap between us where to seem well.
From a distance you appear fine,
Even if I glance for that short time.
An attraction as I watch you go,
Along the path of a short walk you show.
But when close up to see eye to eye,
Gives me doubts to wonder why I pry.
Perhaps an omen for better being apart,
Where to remain separated of a relationship that do not start.
Yet still I stand looking through the window pane,
Of every moment you pass by again and again,
The same felt emotion of desire,
Watching your every move to admire.
Fast lane.
Everyone wishing to be somewhere fast,
Like driving in the fast lane with their cars.
Nowhere in particular to be or at,
Just as long as they get there as quick as that.
As if to follow an idea out in front,
Needing to follow the path even if their mind wont.
No care of what is being left behind,
Just travelling along like a passenger passing by.
Faster than the clouds take to drift along,
Where time in this life that ticks by too long.
That inner sense of having to be there,
To rush towards and when nothing else cared.
For that sense of been there and done that,
But to sped off again as quick as dropping a hat.
What is it in our minds thoughts where to be so fast,
Is life too short to even relax and watch the world go past.
The contours of a face.
Soft rounded delicate skin,
Smooth to the gentle touch.
From a face a beautiful smile will bring,
With cheeks that lovingly blush.
Luscious long eyelashes,
Like petals to a pretty flower.
To flaunt with a warm embrace,
An opening rose untwined with an attracting power.
The nose that sensually curves in line,
In between two eyes colourful and piercing.
With a breath for air that breathes in time,
To the sound of romance passionate and meaning.
Lips moist and pert to whisper softly,
Like musical notes to be heard.
With ears to listen for words costly,
Of enchanting rhymes where love is stirred.
Watching paint dry.
Focusing on a wet patch,
Seated on a stool in the middle of the room.
A strike on the box to light a match,
To endure the cigarette to pass away the gloom.
Seeing the dripping streaks dry,
Like runny mascara disappearing from their face.
The frustration is enough to make anyone cry,
The time ticking by as I await inside this place.
The fumes of the painted surfaces linger,
Intoxicating with the tar from the smoke.
A mind feeling light and hoping my skills are a winner,
Turning the page over from the newspaper of a life bespoke.
The fresh painted room that is to be enjoyed by another,
Making sure my work is to be done soon.
The more for quality than of quantity to suffer,
As my wishes are for something of a small fortune.
Completed by only a day or two perhaps three,
The work has taken its toll with what is shown.
But my intentions are as to be seen,
Of a conclusion to satisfyingly say it is a decent home.
Of all the excuses.
Of all the excuses,
Making all these alibis.
For minds to infuse,
Filled with more lies.
A step forward ahead,
The heel is dug in deep.
The untruth is what is led,
For all to doubtfully keep.
The words are mumbled,
Eyes filled with desperation.
When will to be rumbled,
The skin of the teeth frustration.
Running out of scapegoats,
Friends dropping off like flies.
Characters for you to dote,
Even your enemies cries.
To be caught out in the end,
Those reasons no longer exist.
Too many people sent round the bend,
Trying to make do with what you insist.
Till the end where you are all alone,
No one to look down to or depend upon.
Excuses are no more for where to go,
As the final straw had been drawn and gone.
Opinionated.
What you want is not always necessarily what you need,
But you insist to have it like a stone to bleed.
Begging almost to accept to your own wishes,
Opinionated that convinces others of your impish.
Realising that your reasons are not good enough,
To twist to another for gaining that higher above.
As if two wrongs can really make a right,
You wanting to be rightful and will even put up a fight.
An argument you insist to win no matter how far,
You take your thoughts and attitudes leaving a door to ajar.
So to turn away only for that brief moment of time,
Knowing you almost lost but wait for it to be calm on their side.
To then enter again to continue with your own self fate,
But the dealings are for your own to lay ahead for your hate.
Disobedient.
You know what to do,
But you are just disobedient.
You know how your life is for you,
But you are just disobedient.
The simple things are shown,
But you are just disobedient.
Even if you know where to go,
But you are just disobedient.
You play the dumb blonde,
But you are just disobedient.
Making out this path do not belong,
But you are just disobedient.
Turning a blind eye,
But you are just disobedient.
So no one sees you truly cry,
But you are just disobedient.
You will not submit to your fate,
But you are just disobedient.
Shrugging your shoulders of late,
But you are just disobedient.
As if you rather not know,
But you are just disobedient.
Wanting to believe in what you always known,
But you are just disobedient.
Love is no longer.
Dull, dreary and the days are grey,
Solemn feelings when the love went away.
Each to their own self emotions,
As to be under a hatred potion.
Distance are wide from one to another,
Not even thoughts are for any such lover.
Time spent by one own self,
Listening to the depths of the mind that dwell.
Life suddenly stopped in its place,
No visions to see or dreams to chase.
Just gloom and set in our own ways,
A life felt of doom where love no longer stays.
Love is no longer now the skies are darkened,
A sorrowful heart that ourselves dare to harken.
Who art there?
Who art there?
Thy voice to harken,
As thy speaketh once.
Thou cast a shadow,
Under this clear starlit sky.
To cometh here thou must travel far,
What wishes are with thee?
By day break the stars will fall,
And appear forth like grains of sand.
For thou feet to walk upon,
Then wishes are nought.
Perhaps wine to bringeth for thee,
To then rest ye weary head.
From a breath warm in the cold air.
Speak unto thee with ye needs,
Why silence unto thy?
Before the moon lays upon thee.
To see a face hidden in the dark corners,
Where thy sight is blinded.
Do thy need to beckon,
To beg of thou to join thee.
Be rested in thy chambers,
To freshen the mind of a troubled soul.
But first unto thy reveal your name,
Then this kingdom is for thou as a brethren.
And thou are anointed from herein,
And be maketh honourable in thy place.
The ladybird who lost her spots.
Landed on a leaf to munch,
A ladybird rested and weary.
Time for the ladybird to have some lunch,
When something happened that were scary.
All her spots had dropped to the floor,
As if to slip off from her body.
Not one spot were left any more,
Sudden thoughts of who will help me.
They say a leopard can not change their spots,
Or maybe it is age falling off.
Off to see the turtle by the rocks,
To ask for if he knows what I got.
Feeling light while in the air,
No spots to drag the ladybird down.
Carries herself onto the turtles lair,
As a sudden fear grows upon her frown.
To the turtle the ladybird seeks,
And asks onto her troubles.
Slowly in deep thought the turtle speaks,
'I am sure they will grow back in the doubles'.
Not good enough the ladybird thought,
It taken all this time for the ones she lost.
To another place to ask of her faults,
Where a seagull will help of her huge cost.
Further across the land the ladybird went,
A little past the way of the sea.
To the cliffs where the seagulls spend,
Most of the sunny days with a cool breeze.
Approaching earnestly to the seagull,
The ladybird worried of her late occurrence.
'My spots I lost' the ladybird told,
'Can you tell me of my sad disturbance?'.
'Of course I can' the seagull said,
'The leaves you munch are not of good'.
'You should seek elsewhere instead',
'Then your spots will be bold they should'.
But it is the spots she lost of now,
That has the ladybird all worried.
Onto another place to find out how,
The spots can be replaced and scurried.
Off she went to find the fish,
Somewhere near to the waters edge.
A place she surely insist,
To bring of her great pledge.
The fish had heard of the ladybirds ordeal,
And utters silence for now.
The fish promises that he will,
Make the spots grow back some how.
And from the surface the fish had puffed,
Small rings into the air that float.
Drifted towards the ladybird who huffed,
As dry circles on her body like a coat.
A moment to think if this is okay,
The ladybird looks and spins a twirl.
But then the circles had went away,
Making the ladybird even more unwell.
Back to the place where the spots first fell,
The ladybird hopes there to be.
On the floor the spots all and well,
For her to somehow place back on her body.
When she arrived the spots had gone,
And so too the leaf she munched.
Her face filled with so much wrong,
Giving the biggest hunch.
But then a friend appeared by her side,
Another ladybird from up the stem.
Sat beside her and had a moment to cry,
To begin her repairs with the spots and then.
Using sap from the good leafs they eat,
Gently glued the spots back on.
Slowly a smile appeared from this deed,
And the ladybird had her spots once again upon.
Visions of a perfect world.
I have visions of a perfect world,
Everything before you all well.
Your dreams and hopes are there,
Just as you wish of them for a life fair.
Another place of time you see in front,
To live this life to lead but knowing you wont.
Though desperate to break free for this promised place,
Where beaten into a corner wanting to turn away.
Torments and temptations for you to suffer,
Placed in front of you to abide whether to bother.
Ignorant to be if this settles your fate,
Passing the time till it all slowly fades.
With a sense of being back to normality,
Yet still this perfect world is out there for me.
Where to find it seems impossible to seek,
Up high or low to take a day or a whole week.
Distant in the mind this place is to be found,
Stories are told like whispers for a sound.
A perfect world made just for me,
Where everything is just as I want it to be.
When the city fell.
A life of years within the concrete walls,
Towering above making anyone feel small.
A labyrinth made of streets and buildings,
To turn each corner for a place of no feelings.
Like a trapped mouse hiding from the prey,
An eagle flying high above to run from each day.
The congestion of noise that distracts your view,
A place to cower from any threat that is due.
Blended in amongst all the people that live,
Within the city for a shelter it gives.
A face for no one to find,
Concentrating on the path laid out in line.
Watching the atmosphere in case of a change,
Like the wind in another direction causing a feeling of strange.
Until I reached the furthest and highest wall,
To see the land in a distance where nature calls.
Travels that taken me far and wide,
To a countryside out in the open to abide.
Away from all the hustle and bustle,
A place of peace and quiet without the jostle.
Leaving a life behind thought of as hell,
A life no longer to live when the city fell.
Expectations.
Longing years to be waiting for,
Patiently with your stride.
Hoping all is to be as it should and more,
With the ticking of the clock to abide.
Knowing all that is to be done,
Is in due course for this day.
The day to expect my truly one,
Expectations that will not go away.
My life is devoted to lay the path,
To see the duties are fulfilled.
So when the time is to start,
The minds ever lasting thrill.
Fate to lead me to my destiny,
My life's work to conclude.
For whomsoever shall reach my empathy,
This moment has been set to pursue.
The corner.
It took the once to be naughty as a child,
Sent to the corner to spend the rest of the while.
My back against the rest of the class,
Facing two walls at an angle where the time passed.
I invented a game inside my own mind,
Drowning out the noise of the other kind.
Occupying myself while I look into this dark place,
Then the noise behind became echoes and to fade.
Crawling down from the ceiling a small spider,
Look deeply into my eyes as to desire.
Suddenly I felt myself shrinking in size,
And a voice came from the spider to my surprise.
Shadows emerged from the corner of the wall,
Dancing around to no music but climbing more tall.
Growth appeared like a jungle to walk out,
The spider on my shoulder instructing me without a doubt.
A world opened up during my time standing still,
An escape to a place that no lesson can care to thrill.
With a spider as a friend and the shadows to enjoy,
A dream world to discover and ploy.
But just as I were to step out amongst the over growth,
My shoulder had been tugged back and lost to bespoke.
My teacher had now told me to sit back where I had been,
Only my mind is now set for this new world for a dream.
Curious to be where this world had been shown,
My tantrums and torments were more of to be thrown.
As usual to the corner my time will be spent,
But little do they know of the place I escape to nor went.
With the noise faded from the back of my mind,
The same spider comes down to greet me every time.
The shadows appear dancing upon the darkened walls,
And the overgrowth opening up to a world that makes me small.
This time though I now explore of this world to find,
A place of magical visions and colourful animals that shine.
With crystal clear fountains for water to flow,
Little shining dots of fairies that hide so not to show.
Rainbow colour creatures that hide in the trees,
And glistening fruit that is juicy and tasty to eat.
Yet still no matter how long I been away,
My shoulder is tugged back as always where no longer to stay.
Secret.
In these four walls where to feel secure,
Away from all those that know you and all.
No thought for who shall be from before,
A life to believe in and not to fall.
The fresh feeling of moving on,
Where no one can drag you down.
The past that has forgotten and gone,
No sign of life that will make you frown.
Friends that are now seen as acquaintances,
Those brief moments that you shared.
The friends that have no memory spaces,
Nor the ones that you neither cared.
Little did you know of what may be secret,
Opened out like the roof has been ripped off.
Peering in from high up and discreet,
Looking in to the life that you got.
The past now catching up with you,
With the sense of what once had been.
Holding you to what they recall that you do.
As a person to live where known to be seen.
A fear of change on their behalf,
Like for the better the devil you know.
But a stranger now seen from afar,
Where the memory is in need to regrow.
Spoilt.
A love that is torn,
Where the feeling is worn.
Lived their own separate ways,
To seek another area to play.
But memories are set in deep,
That holds onto the existence to keep.
Where to still put up a fight,
To hold onto with all their might.
Confusion that leaves an undecided mind,
At a crossroads for the lover standing in line.
Almost letting go of the past,
To satisfy from the torments of a life that never last.
Yet something grasps hold to stay close,
That prevents you from wanting to let go.
No chances for another love to lead,
Where to be spoilt for a life in need.
And the jealousy rages in within sight,
Seeing another taking the place you see as spite.
To then test the waters once again,
If there is any hope of being together from then.
Deceit.
Having been taught from when young,
A manipulation that had begun.
A life on a path that you trust,
With the encouragement of others that you must.
Those instincts you truly believe in,
Like a gut feeling to follow that it brings.
People you meet along your way,
Learning from one and another each day.
Building up an honest and reliable mind,
Where to part with others when having the time.
On a relationship you see to enact,
Almost an oath to make with a pact.
But all it takes is one slightest mistake,
To throw off course and the thoughts that break.
Deep within where to not forgive,
Perhaps forgotten but deceit to believe.
Inside a glass house.
The mind enclosed inside a glass house,
Fragile and delicate to think for the whereabouts.
Gently making steps to make an advance,
In fear of wrong doing with every glance.
Surrounded by glass in fret to shatter,
Having to be cautious with all that matter.
A vision seen blurred through the invisible pane,
Deceitfully trying to twist the rightful gain.
Trapped inside for someone else’s doom,
A life to live all felt with gloom.
Aims are taken to help the glass break,
While to watch and hope to survive for goodness sake.
Feeling attached where the mind holds it together,
A bubble to burst but inside a glass house to endeavour.
Love conquers all.
Someone is always worse off than yourself,
No matter what to go through you are in better health.
Mountains to climb and rivers to swim,
Corners to turn and places to brighten from being dim.
Misery felt all throughout life,
Worries for an end to this strife.
Wishes for romance to save from this turmoil,
Like a princess saved by her prince standing tall.
Towering above holding out his hand,
To pick her up and carry her away from this darkened land.
Where love conquers all and saves the day,
No other for your eyes only and led away.
But the trust is in need to be built upon,
Like a brick wall surrounding the heart to move on.
Damaged from before and in doubts to all else,
Will love be deceitful instead and hurtfully dealt.
If conquered strongly and grabbed hold of tight,
The feelings within deep will guide you for all is right.
Love conquers all and no other power will win,
No turning back and certainly a feeling forever din.
The screaming child.
Awoken within a dream trapped inside a greenhouse,
A forest of greenery and nowhere to get out.
This place large enough for me to run yet not to hide,
Around a corner I notice a screaming child to abide.
Crying her eyes out appeared very upset,
I reassuringly approach to comfort but no trust to get.
Sitting on the floor with her sorrow head on her bent knees,
Sobbing her heart out and a face that is not pleased.
I reach a hand out to bless her poor soul,
But she looks at me and screams for me to go.
Staying where I am I try once again,
Only her screams turn to screeches and really send me round the bend.
Piercing through my mind and she just wont stop,
I cover my ears and beg for to give up on her strop.
Then to notice the glass panes begin to crack,
Lines moving across the pane where an escape to lack.
I panic and turn to find another way to be safe,
To the sound of silence where the child no longer stay.
The screeches stop but the cracked glass continue on,
To see several crows squawking on the roof upon.
Pecking the moss built up on the roof top,
I wave my arms up in the air to scare the crows away and stop.
But the glass shatters and the shards fall below,
Where I am standing and to the floor I now go.
Cut to pieces and bleeding on the floor,
This dream I awoke in I no longer want to be in any more.
Dreams the star had shun.
The stars in the night sky that shine,
Light up the path for me to reach.
Not easy like a mountain to climb,
But the effort is worth the while to seek.
A reassuring glow to comfort my stay,
To egg me further on still.
To guide my mind of the way,
Till the sun breaks out from the darkened thrill.
Like an eye opening up from the distance in front,
The morning breaking out.
With the suns glare piercing and not blunt,
As the stars are hidden from doubt.
The visions are set and placed in line,
Now for the mind to enact.
But no guidance like the night time,
Our instincts are what to trust in fact.
Until you reach your place,
Where the star still shines high.
The daylight shields the curiosity it gave,
To let go and allow you to continue on by.
Then all the dreams the star had shun,
Turns to dust and floats away in the night.
Where the moon will pick up and be upon,
Gleaming down making sure all is right.
And when the moon has turned,
The night is the darkest of all.
The more stars appear for dreams to be learned,
As the paths are set again and visions to fall.
Visions go beyond the eyes reach.
As I stand here up high,
Miles of greenery and blue sky.
Like a green carpet laid,
And light blue walls with white patches that fade.
Visions go beyond the eyes reach,
Seeing life all around from this place I speak.
A gentle breeze sweeps the tree tops,
Like brushing my hand across the crops.
A herd of sheep from afar in the field,
The mind playing of fallen clouds that lay still.
Smoke from a chimney that darkens the sky,
A strip of black ruining the mental painting I abide.
Rooftops hidden between the rows of green,
If only to leap across like a path to follow in a dream.
Crashing waves heard down below,
But not of the sea of passing cars going to and fro.
Busy streets with people strolling around,
The time passes by and my feet feel they left the ground.
Way up high upon this small hill,
I spend the afternoon gazing out that satisfies my thrill.
The white room.
'Scream as much as you like', I were told,
Pushed into a white room by someone with a heart so cold.
'No one will hear you in here', the voice continued,
I stood and watched the doorway disappear to this room.
White padded walls and a ceiling so high,
No chance of clawing my way out even if I try.
Leather padding from top to bottom and all around,
There is not even an opening in the ground.
Entrapped in a square room all by myself,
Time taking a long while to realise my hell.
It took a few glances around to this room with no door,
Bellowing from the depths of my soul I scream and some more.
I punch the padded decor and try to tear the walls,
Trying to find the door that once was opened before my minds fall.
Confused and trapped inside a box all enclosed,
Left to scream my heart out to no avail feeling alone.
'Let me out' I scream really and very loud,
How did I let myself get in here where my voice fails.
I roll my body all around this place,
Grabbing my hair to tear out and scratch my own face.
Stamping my feet as to dig a hole in the floor,
Hitting out on the walls to break through but my strength is poor.
I crutch down grabbing my knees as the teardrops pour down,
This is only the start of my life in the white room away from my town.
Darkened heart.
The atmosphere feels I belong,
But alone I am and no one to be among.
A life set out for my own satisfaction,
With my darkened heart my mind is a distraction.
Pity those who wish to be seen and known,
For whose sake to look into the life of my own.
They say the best way is to be nice,
Though the heart was broken long ago in my life.
Deep in the darkest corners of the mind,
Settled with the notion of how to abide.
To follow is obeying to what is to be expected,
Take me as a fool but my wisdom is not defected.
Not to disagree, certainly not,
I rather not see from the one mind to be mocked.
Distrust in the way others are to assume,
With disbelieving in the whole entire truth.
Truth hurts they do say,
Even more so when you can not face it and be on your way.
So when the story to be told,
Is filled with lies and wrong paths to take of old.
Belief in anything is simple to do,
All you need is two wrongs to make a right or two.
Paradise to hell.
White marbled stone for pillars and walls,
To an entrance of a temple for a garden that your heart will call.
Green and cream ivy plants that hang from marbled urns,
That the gentle breeze swings them like curtains that opens.
Comfort felt for this place I am about to discover,
But my deep instincts sense that I am amongst others.
Pathways leading you around raised flower beds,
With marbled seats and statues that my eyes are led.
Then sudden movement for life appears before me,
Tempting for me to follow with their unusual features to see.
Realising I am not in a place of heavenly state,
But entered an entrance into a paradise to hells gate.
Knowing of the devil in front as Pan,
The one with nature and a sexual man.
Beckons me over with his passionate glance,
Like a love God laying on the bench causing my heart to dance.
With his offer from the tree of temptation an apple to eat,
For a sexual favour to have but hunger is not of my defeat.
To then see another similar looking devil for a God,
But one of beauty who speaks with riddles with every made trod.
Sometimes singing with such a wonderful voice,
Drawing me closer to this sound without a choice.
Understanding this to be of Poe,
As Pan tries to distract me by using the pipes to blow.
A soft, delicate giggle Poe gives out,
'Pan when will you learn to play my pipes' speaks with doubt.
Then this strong hold onto my mind I feel,
A whisper into my ear yet more for a thrill.
Hypnotic when to look over at this third kind,
Telepathically tells me he is name is Pie.
All the answers to my lives questions,
Told before me and attracting me as more are mentioned.
A choice to make with which way to go,
Whether to follow Pan, Pie or Poe.
Suddenly there was life.
The mind feeling in a hollow state,
Desolate as to be abandoned.
The body continuing with life of late,
With the soul feeling sadden.
Fate played upon from another place,
Judgement settles to your well being.
Questions constantly that show on your face,
Wanting to fulfil a life with meaning.
A horizon to look out to,
To walk that long achievable road.
But like the sun that hides away too soon,
Over shadowed in the footsteps you take alone.
Lifeless and no reason to their actions,
Roaming around like a gormless soul.
No one to make a smile for satisfaction,
The heart growing ever more cold.
Then suddenly there was life,
A namesake given to an empty thought.
That breath of deep passion from strife,
Back on the busy highway like a breeze had brought.
A double life.
A lonely life all by myself at home,
While my double life is out there battling all alone.
Each day I long for to combine,
Where the echoes of life synchronise in time.
For now the frustrating pressure of being apart,
Desperate to become as one beating heart.
Dreams and temptations of how life is wonderful,
A place to be for everyone and all.
But a life that is thought for without facts,
A web of lies being weaved from empty minds to enact.
Convincing that life is as we know it to be,
Only to remind of a double life where long ago set free.
An ordeal to bare with that is unquestionable,
To persevere each day no matter how unbearable.
Like no time to think as there is more matters for concern,
For the sake of getting through so the mind is not stern.
A blind eye from some but out of their kindness,
As to speak no evil of the life I miss.
Others believing that the life goes on,
Only to behave selfish not wanting to be upon.
The ever moving existence we all see outside,
Disobedient to submit to the will of thinking for alive.
Until the promise spoken into my mind,
Becomes real there is distraction to not think for another time.
As to be doubtful with the future that is foretold,
The one thought I keep reminding myself as to be bold.
Like a dream to aim for that I set out to see through,
A dream that is all it to be for now until true.
A state of confusion.
Born with a life that is not known to be missed,
As to fall asleep and not remember that gentle kiss.
Living in a dream world where all is about,
To be hidden from the true self to not cause such doubt.
For those knowing of the life that is forsaken,
Look upon the ever existence in a life to be taken.
Where a state of confusion has the mind in a passionate way,
Seeking to know what the real meaning that is at play.
Distant in the mind that sends you to a dormant state,
But stops you from falling deeper before it is too late.
As to enter darkness where the body becomes an empty shell,
Waiting for an escaped soul to enter and continue on well.
Pushing me forward to the last thought to have,
As if the meaning for the day is laid out to grab.
But to think before to do is harder to enact,
Just as quick as the thought goes where the movement lacks.
Pressure in the way to convince of which way to go,
To find a place to be where instructed as so.
A life that is not controlled by my own felt sense,
A state of confusion on whether to be or not to be meant.
Acting the martyr.
Principles to believe in with this life,
From other opinions that cause strife.
A case of who is right and who is wrong,
Yet still both continue on.
A moment to not care for the opposite thought,
Acting the martyr for the life you been taught.
The digging of the heels hard and deep,
To show something scrapped off of your shoe from the street.
Having your voice heard so to look up to,
Wishing nothing in your way through the punishment you do.
To make the world evolve around only yourself,
Shrugging off any thought inside your minds ill health.
Like a path to follow that you make of your own,
Cutting away any horrid overgrowth that wickedly had been sown.
Surely when the truth is obvious to see,
That this acting the martyr is completely to make suffer on we.
Until when there is no one left to take note,
Of your spiteful attitude and the way you are to dote.
House of Horrors.
A windy chill directly blown into the face,
Cold on the skin making the eyes water.
With the creaky gate swinging out of place,
And cracked pathway to every step faultier.
A door darkened in years and nailed stuck,
Window panes smashed sensing a hollow inside.
The outside blackened as to be dripping in muck,
Echoes of tiny scurrying feet and gentle cries.
An overgrown large tree with branches reaching out far,
An impression of stopping the house from tilting.
With the sound of a dog barking beyond the rusty old car,
The crows perched upon the branches watching me walking.
The wooden porch bounces with my trodden step,
More scurrying feet heard below.
A broken piece of wood giving more depth,
Seeing a shadow run down past as so.
A child playing hide and seek,
Or an illusion from the cold nip in the air.
Quickened pace of my own feet,
Suddenly to see a window half opened just there.
Piercing eyes appear in the dark shadow of the room,
Startled to become as with a heart beat to jump.
Running down the side stairs not knowing of my doom,
To trip over the ground from a small lump.
The crows fly out causing a commotion of a noise,
Laying on the back looking up into the sky.
In the corner of my eye to see children’s toys,
And to the tree trunk a decomposing body all tied.
Pecked to death with hollow eyes and no skin,
Left to the crows no doubt.
To see deep red eyes peering out from under the porch but dim,
Snarling, drawling teeth from a large furry rat that came out.
The hairs on my whole body stand up from fear,
Using my feet to push my body away.
But quicker than to escape the rat comes near,
And the crows dive down to the ground where I stay.
If the ground opened up and swallowed me whole,
This feeling of now is just how it felt.
My life is now of a worried soul,
House of horrors had now been dealt.
All that you were, and all that you are.
With every step knowledge to learn,
Within every breath a passion to burn.
Dreams to live out with a place to find,
Visions to see and feelings of kind.
Memories to hold so dear and close,
The hurtful ones that are thought for most.
The mind bringing the pieces into place,
A life made up in sections to fixate.
All that you were that taught you how,
Is all that you are with how you live now.
The temptations that set in deep,
To torment you through the days you keep.
Wisdom is the key to succeed,
But the fire burns of a heart set free.
That the soul will reveal the truth,
Where the mind to learn and the body see through.
'666'.
6am was the hour,
On the 6th day of the 6th of June.
The room filled with the scent from flowers,
Awaiting on the baby that is now due.
The crack of dawn alight across the sky,
Like a cracked slit in the wall of reality that brightly shun.
Standing at the window wondering why,
With the back turned away from this new born son.
Screams from the mother who sitting up in bed,
But painfully unlike a normal labour.
Awake all night caused a weary head,
Being comforted by a caring neighbour.
Pondering over at this orange and yellow glow,
Of the unusual moment to see.
How the formation reveals another place to go,
Like a kingdom discovered from behind the trees.
The screams became more loud and lingered,
Until the screams had stopped.
As to echo to the baby that hindered,
Over taken of where the mother could not.
She sat there gazing looking into space,
No sound nor any motion.
Her eyes left wide opened and dazed,
Looking down at the baby on the bed with no emotion.
As if the baby had scared the life out of her,
And sent her into a trance.
Something stirring in the atmosphere,
Just then to turn and make a glance.
Dead to this world the mother seems,
But so too the baby although cries.
The sight from the window has awaken a dream,
There is a place to find but not of the naked eye.
Forgiven.
This world I live in,
Has me always wanting to be forgiving.
Torments and worries,
That I sense to have me in a hurry.
Knowing there to be,
Another place where the mind is set free.
Where the blame can no longer be passed,
With a carefree life forever last.
Still condemned I am for now,
Like a witness that points the finger some how.
To be blessed for any forsaken care,
Where others stirring emotions are to be unfair.
The sticks and stones may be of use,
But the names hurt more to this unsatisfying abuse.
The place set out to make the dealings more acceptable,
Like a happy home to live in to my own downfall.
Forgive me for my actions I make,
But the mind is not quite connected to the bodies intake.
Of punishment and torture that I do bare,
Mild to some that I dare to compare.
Worshipping those who see themselves of grand,
Pity when it is that being of underhand.
The girl at the window.
Her world had been cast into a darkened place,
No longer do the sun shine upon her sorrowful face.
Imprisonment by her own encaged mind,
Not even passing by people look up to her in time.
She stands at the window gazing out,
Like a shadow appearing through glass to not hear her shout.
Feeling entrapped in a place all alone,
To live like a ghost where nobody knows.
Sometimes you hear the odd cry,
But the noise faint for something else to hear on by.
Her presence felt but of such a sad passionate way,
The rumours are told of her ill health grandma is why she stays.
Her life to be like in a house all on its own,
On top of a hill to look out of those that curiously roam.
Dull and dreary where the clouds are black,
Cast under shadows where the light do lack.
Cold and lonely the room is bare,
She stands alone the girl at the window wondering who cares.
Keeping to one's side of the bargain.
A deal set out,
Agreed on and spat.
Keeping to one's side of the bargain,
Watchful eyes making sure of that.
Given some time,
Making it all clear.
Working it to make happen,
To fall back on is a cost so dear.
A person to blame,
To hide the obvious.
Ignorant to the facts,
Disappearance to be cursed.
A choice made by what will be,
Overshadowed from the truth.
Punishment for being kind,
When the deal suddenly breaks through.
Murder at the Palais.
Highly regarded as they lived in the Palais,
Over looking the city they ruled.
A loving couple where romanced was outplayed,
Of all that wandered by below where hearts called.
Gifts sent to and fro from near and afar,
To share with their elegance and charm.
Feasts and light entertainment on an evening without mar,
Dancing in the ballroom in an atmosphere from harm.
All eyes upon the loving couple as the host of the night,
An evening spent with much well being.
Through the glass trickles of moonlight,
Giving an end to a gathering of good feeling.
Scurried along her highness went,
Her sparkling slippers reflecting off the floor.
Unannounced to his attention as deep thoughts were spent,
Wondering of her presence for more.
But to his chamber he slept deeply,
Without a motion for concerns.
To hear the bedroom door open creakily,
And a cold feeling come over where the heart usually burns.
Awoken by the morning alone in his bed,
Panic stricken to think he spent the night all alone.
Wondering where his lover had been instead,
To roam along the corridors in his gown during a moan.
To stop by a cavity of a window,
Watching the sun come up.
Sensing cries from a distance across the yonder so,
Noticing the face of a familiar person wishing it all to stop.
During the night she was kidnapped,
Bound by a cloth to her mouth.
Hands tied tight behind her back,
Driven across by a horse drawn cart to the south.
Where she hung freely from the tower,
Her love had been broken away.
As the sun rose more in the sky beaming more power,
Murder at the Palais was the shock for today.
Seasons.
The cool, fresh nip in the air,
Early morning sunny glare.
Mist rising across the meadow,
Like melting ice from down below.
The seeds begin to sprout,
Leaping lambs all about.
The grass looking much greener,
And the early flowers being keener.
The sky clears away,
For a brighter blue warmer day.
Colours more vibrant and strong,
Nectar and scents wherever to walk along.
Birds twittering each and every morning,
Less rain to come down pouring.
More faces out to greet,
Enjoying the outside where people to meet.
Every cloud has a silver lining,
But one of dull, darker days come calling.
The wet, fallen leaves on the floor,
And the colder air returns once more.
Damp and cold with those mildew smells,
Like a forest close by during the wet spells.
The rain cooling things down,
Where the hot season dried up the ground.
Then the icy chill comes at your door,
Sharp in the air where no one stays out anymore.
The flowers and foliage fade away,
To die back and grow again some other day.
Snow come falling sometimes during the year,
And those icicles resembling long forsaken tears.
Clouds seem to fallen to the ground,
Where to walk under our feet to a crunching sound.
Witches on broomsticks.
The cold dark night,
The shining moon and starlight.
When the dust settles,
And the glistening cobwebs upon nettles.
The wind blows,
Sharp and icy on the nose.
The skies clear,
And the whole of the moon appears near.
Sudden movement so swift,
Flying high where to have a gift.
Upon the broomstick they will be,
Witches flying by during the autumn fallen leaf.
A broomstick made of sprigs,
Dressed in black cape and a hat to the head it sticks.
A duty they must do,
Sweeping the cobwebs that hang from stars they see to.
Their black cats wandering around below,
Keeping watch for when they land to the ground so.
Peeping through those piercing eyes,
To see before they descend from the skies.
For a witches job is not to be told,
A magical moment flying out there in the cold.
Unfinished business.
A scrap begun from long ago,
From arrogance to cause a blow.
Blamed upon the young,
Yet eyes were not seen among.
Standing to their ground,
Louder and louder making a sound.
Quarrelsome the more they become,
When evidently to believe what had been done.
To hold a grudge for many of years,
Parted from each other yet the trouble stays near.
Falling down this hole to dig,
As history plays out to be a snig.
Drawn back to the memory stays,
Where unfinished business repeats every day.
Where people of new have heard about,
Of the past doings that the mind is never without.
Where softly-softly to the soul,
An end to the fight for what they know.
They started something so they finished,
Provoked to keep the on going evil wish.
Falling.
It started by digging in my heel,
A hole formed in the ground.
I wanted everyone to know how I feel,
Only for the tables to of turned around.
The hole to become more bigger,
I sense myself leaning back.
I then knew I were not to be a winner,
And my opinions are sure to lack.
The more I tried to push my point across,
I felt behind of me open more wide.
Suddenly my mind to feel at lost,
And the heavy sound of time.
My own fault it has to be said,
I should of known when to keep it shut.
But my mind has to be spoken instead,
To be falling down on my butt.
More than this I feel myself to be,
Falling further and further in this hole.
I sent myself to somewhere deeply,
If only to claw back out to save my soul.
The man in the moon.
During the night sent catapulting and spiralling inside a disc from afar,
The man in the moon all lit up and rolling along a strong cabled wire.
A job to be done on many of nights,
Where to keep watch by shining his bright light.
Passing by those sparkling diamonds for a star,
Travelling for miles from the north and far.
Reaching as beyond as the south,
Where to be seen from their window by sleepless children with open mouths.
For noticing how he has become stuck midway,
To be hovering in the air and remain to stay.
The man in the moon has the cables all tangled,
Who shall help him to be released from this mangle.
Before he becomes late and is seen out during the day,
When the sun comes up and to notice he never went away.
Out all night in the dark cold air,
Where to been stuck because no one had cared.
Maybe if someone had made a wish,
Hoping to come down by blowing a kiss.
Where then dad says he is to help the man in the moon,
He needs his ladder and will be back soon.
Hoping he do not fall off from the roof,
Or the tale to tell with be all a spoof.
Then the man in the moon will unable to get back home where he lives,
To clean his smoggy face from the smoke the chimney gives.
To get the ball rolling once again,
So for another night to the job and then.
Or how will we see during the night,
If the man in the moon is lost and no longer to shine so bright.
The dark side of the moon.
Shining so bright,
Blinding your sight.
From the dark side of the moon,
Shall appear soon.
From the temple of the eye,
The moon will appear from the sky.
Closer even still,
Causing a spine tingling thrill.
Sometimes the odd bat,
May fly by when the moon seems fat.
And the black cat that sits,
In front of your path amongst the mist.
In the shadow of the trees,
Howling from some unknown beast.
With the eerie air,
The wind blowing through your hair.
Whistling sound on the breeze,
As the trees brush away their leaves.
And the stars shine so bright,
Twinkling behind the moonlight.
Down comes the witch on her broom,
Where to turn you into a mouse so to loom.
Chased by the black cat,
Scurrying away but trapped under her hat.
To not see the beast come even more near,
Scaring the cat away with fear.
The heavy warm breathing outside,
A scream from the witch that I no longer hide.
Picked up from the grip of its teeth,
I hang there all small furry and tiny feet.
Carried away into the dense fog,
The beauty and the beast is begun as I sit on a log.
A woman torn.
Her hard work is shown from her blood and tears,
Within her eyes she bleeds after all these years.
Her heart has suffered with such harsh thorns,
Thorns in her side where to be a woman torn.
The thanks she gets is a quick smile,
Her skin goes cold and feels alone for this while.
Her life to lead is all she can do is work,
The surroundings that mean nothing that she desert.
Working to the bone on her hands and knees,
The long hours to bare with just so to please.
The finished touch is for her to be satisfied,
Only to be walked all over again where to abide.
There must be someone who sees for whom she really can be,
To draw out her true colours for her meritoriously.
That to give in return what she truly deserves,
Knowing it was all worth the hard work that she endure.
Life grows.
The roots settled in long ago,
Taking its stand to make a show.
Slowly yet surely aiming high,
Spreading outwards and towards the sky.
As time ticks away,
The base grows harder so to stay.
Each little leaf of a story to tell,
Achieved through the rough sharp thorns to make us fail.
Until eventually when the buds come out,
Showing off the hard work where once to doubt.
And if to be knocked back to the start,
To be grown back double in strength from the heart.
Like the rose when to fade away,
Life grows on the long stems day by day.
Trying to find my way.
Within the minds silent realm,
By the distraction of others.
Lost senses of a lonely helm ,
Listening to the sound that over covers.
Blank thoughts for a decision to make,
Waiting on my own voice.
Time ticking and fading away,
Trying to find my way for a choice.
Slight nudges to move forward,
But never a push to a shove.
Convincingly it is my own mind called,
To feel life from below and to the above.
An open space but not too wide,
Thinking for which way to go.
The distance enough to see with the naked eye,
But beyond is of no thought of where to show.
The outdoors advances with no interest,
As to be for no needy excuse.
Passers by for a try to test,
To believe there is a way to choose.
In search of freedom.
An opened window,
On the breeze it flow.
The scent of Spring,
From the wild flowers bring.
A deep breath,
With every step.
With the wind through the hair,
Out in the opened air.
Hidden behind trees,
Away from all that sees.
Miles of meadows,
In the distance it shows.
Galloping on a horse,
To nowhere of course.
Wanting to the end of land,
A quiet place alone to stand.
Gentle birds to hear,
With no one else near.
Time to think,
Not to worry if I blink.
A sense of feeling lost,
In search of freedom at no cost.
A magical place.
Set deep in the dense woods,
Hidden where the overgrowth and trees stood.
The path led of bright colourful toadstools,
A magical place not to be found by fools.
During the morning as the sun breaks through,
Beams of mist shining for an hour or two.
Like a torch of light showing you where,
As the visions illuminate so to care.
The doorway made from the trees branch,
Where the breeze to open creating an arch.
Seen like an oil painting,
Another world revealed so daring.
Gravel path curving from one side to another,
With many trees and bushes of colour that smother.
Flickering of lights whizzing past,
Thoughts of fairies to attract so fast.
Musical sound of birds singing their tune,
And unicorns peering from a distance amongst the dew.
A mass of butterflies flap by my ear,
All following each other into this world so near.
Is it possible to touch and walk right in,
Looking down at my feet to make sure I am not in a dream.
The surreal feeling of existence in this place,
As I walk out into another world with astonishment on my face.
Carried away on the flow of the butterflies wings,
To be attracted and ever more drawn in.
The little lights whizz by my eyes,
Glow-worms shining oh so bright.
Walking slowly along this curved pathway,
The attraction to wonder if this is real life to stay.
A unicorn spots me as I approach,
With a strike of his hoof and a nod he wishes to follow so.
Faster than I as he gallops along,
Suddenly to be picked up by the butterflies to hover among.
On a tidal wave filled with colour and light,
Just as then a small wooden hut appears in sight.
Smoke from the chimney shows someone is home,
As I drift down to my feet to stand all alone.
Seeing those bright glow-worms to swiftly disappear,
As to hide in a hurry from seeing me with fear.
The creak of the door from the hut,
Slowly opens causing an upset gut.
Worried of not knowing what to find,
When an arched woman in a ragged cloak looks beyond my mind.
As to hear every word I whisper inside my head,
Beckons me in with her long fingered hand to beg.
A glimpse of the glow-worms peeping to see,
Knowing of their startled reactions of what will be.
To not feel my feet touch the ground,
I walk into the hut without making a sound.
With a loud slam the door closes behind,
A gasp for air thinking of my last if not to be kind.
The window lit up from the glow-worms spying in,
Like sun rise on the pane of glass upon something so dim.
Within the open fire a flare of flames,
If to be a witch before me she beckons me over again.
The aroma of blossom and fungi fill the room,
From a goblet with liquid bubbling beside the mushrooms.
Handed to me I am to drink this potion,
Where my life is now filled with passionate emotions.
From startled to cheerful the glow-worms appear even more so,
And a tap on my head from the witches stick knocks my senses home.
Now I am part of this magical place I enter,
Part of the forest like a wild being forever.
Left to your own devices.
All alone and left to your own devices,
Until someone picks up on and decides.
To use it to their own advantage,
Making way as if they to be granted.
Just so to look down upon and despise,
To be your own downfall but to their insight.
Long lived thinking what is correct,
Until the day when suddenly to inspect.
Thought for too long without a say,
Getting away with it in every way.
To scratch the surface out of spite,
Digging the claws in to cause a fright.
The sense for not living a free life,
Keeping you on your toes so to remind.
That someone near with the watchful eyes,
Knows all about where to pry.
From the corner of my eye.
When you thought I were not looking,
I saw from the corner of my eye.
Thinking to yourself that no one knows of your doing,
And how no one will even want to pry.
Just as to shrug it off your shoulders,
When a subtle hint of we know.
To act as if it were you who told us,
Yet still you continue on with how you go.
Perhaps I turned a blind eye to your deeds,
But kept sight from the corner of my eye.
Just in case one day you will need me,
To save you from wanting to cry.
Still as if nothing is wrong,
And as if no one is watching you.
The usual of what is going on,
Where to freely do as you do.
Attractions of love.
A gentle pass by,
Looking back over my shoulder.
So many attractions of love to try,
Not like this one of your natural aroma.
Sweet fresh scent from your skin,
Like daisies picked from a field.
With a warm soft loving grin,
From the corner of your mouth that my mind feels.
To follow your footsteps along,
A place that you wish to remain.
Subtle but surely to lay my hands upon,
Of a gaze I wish our eyes to stay.
Had fate caused us to be here,
A feeling we were meant to be.
So little to talk about but to know you for years,
This sense for each other of how we began to see.
Where art thou love?
Waiting on this empty heart,
Petals on a flower that had no start.
Withered away before to begin,
Withdrawn from life for no love giving.
Eyes wide open yet can not see,
Cold feeling of a life to lead.
The mind drifting far away,
Where art thou love for to stay?
A battle to commence in every step,
Not to give up on hope this trust thy kept.
Though clueless to every ones thoughts,
To dwell only on memories thy caught.
Carried away with the flow of life,
Left alone where to leave my side.
Thy heart to fulfil that holds on to,
Not letting you go where to live through.
Sealed and locked with the key thou hold,
Never to open till before me to enfold.
Left to the imagination.
To read you like a book,
But only its cover.
Takes just that one look,
And my mind is set on being your lover.
Peeling away the surface,
Gently digging my claws in.
To erupt emotions on your face,
So to know what exactly makes you tick.
But time do fail me,
For more than wanting just this.
To spend many of moments being happy,
Not to be left to the imagination after the first kiss.
And envy boils inside so deep,
Watching you pass by each day.
With the people that you tend to keep,
Listening close to your lips with what they say.
Tormenting me within your stride,
With the language your body speaks.
The hours I spent with tearful cries,
Knowing how your presence makes me weak.
Dreaming of you from the moment we met,
Your touch has kept hold.
Will this life be kind enough to let,
Our hearts combine as one living soul.
Sensual touches.
Falling drops of rain,
Like the tears caused from the pain.
Gently stroking the cheek,
Under water where in deep.
The warm hands on my skin,
Comforting during a time so dim.
Breath felt on my face,
To lay upon your chest and hear your heart race.
The hollow state inside my mind,
Blank thoughts and awaiting on time.
For that someone new to take control,
While feeling of a dark and lonely soul.
A place to feel my sorrow,
For now there is no tomorrow.
Can I be using you on a rebound,
With the echoes drowning out the sound.
For the sensual touches of somewhere new,
Leaving behind the nettles that stung right through.
Will the past be forgotten and move on,
Taking the time to do so but to be gone.
The shelter you give from the rain,
While the stormy atmosphere makes it vain.
The black horse.
A lonesome wanderer across the plains,
The light left on to save again.
Many folks make tracks across,
Roaming too far and becoming lost.
The weather outside of heavy rain,
A cold nip in the air makes it more lame.
To the farmhouse they always reach,
Attracted by the light from a distance they see.
Instructed to head on over to the lane,
Where a warm meal at the inn and to rest their pain.
The black horse this place of new,
With a sign swinging in the wind to see at loom.
Darkened skies and heavy down pour,
Tinted lights giving an eerie door.
A dog barking from out back,
And the whistling sound through the gates crack.
Tempted in from the smell of food,
The crackling fireplace and a happy mood.
Walking in to a silent pause,
Wary heads looking over of any such cause.
To hear the laughter come from the back of the room,
A sudden stop to meet with the landlord of whom.
Expected of no presence from a strange man,
Yet still to greet and beckon over with his hand.
To speak of travels come from afar,
Wishing to rest during the dark.
Doubtful faces on whether such a thing,
Of a lonesome stranger from the distance bring.
An offer of food and to dry off the clothes,
But must move on before the inn do close.
The hour is late and eyes are tired,
Where to another place to be inspired.
Then the wind stops and silence outside,
No dogs barking or any sound of cries.
A mist blowing across the fields,
To hear mute sound of trots to then be still.
Feeling spooked but of some huge black beast,
To then see a black horse stand before the trees.
Riding on back is a dark shadow of a figure,
A ghost perhaps but not of one to snigger.
To look closer still to see of no head,
But held in his arm though to be of undead.
A haunting place called by his name,
The black horse that frightens those upon the mains.
Black rain.
Fallen from the darkest clouds,
The sky an empty black void.
Black crystals pour in fierce spells,
Weather cold, wet and annoyed.
Quick flashes that enlightens,
Able to see up ahead.
The rolls of thunder that frightens,
Hanging on to hope for a warm bed.
The black rain falls in large drops,
Heavy and grim.
Drenched right through and do not stop,
Invisible though thinking soon to swim.
Dragging me down deep,
Yet hovering just like the cloud.
Numb feeling to my feet,
With my mind in darkness and bound.
Pains in life.
The trust broken away,
Feeling of lonely and dismay.
A heartbroken and sad,
Sorrowful eyes with what had.
Tears falling from deep emotion,
Words unspoken for devotion.
Holding close to the mind,
Memories of their own spent time.
Nothing shared so nothing gained,
Only that shared feeling for pain.
With wanting more of what could of been,
For sensing second best with others seen.
Comfort of that love once known,
To seek their own way from letting go.
A fly in my soup.
Sitting here with a bowl of soup,
Suddenly a fly doing loop-the-loop.
Amazing to watch and see,
Of something small but a catastrophe.
Its legs moving up and down,
Doing the breast-stroke to then turn around.
So casually it swims on its side,
Now on its back looking up at I.
Enjoying himself without a doubt,
As I watch with a wide opened mouth.
Until he swims off course,
Hits his head on a crouton and feels at lost.
Panic stricken and in a flap,
To be drowning with nothing to grab.
Submerged in a bowl of soup,
A troublesome fly and so minute.
Cobwebs in my cup.
Visions seen from the tea poured,
With a little extra added for something sweet.
Unclear to see for what is to accord,
Then these predictions are all but a dream.
Something of good luck,
With some fun on the way.
If only the tea to chuck,
So to know of this sooner than at play.
A long career ahead,
With plenty of the world to see.
And many wishes to be said,
For a new arrival or two or three.
First to meet a tall, dark handsome stranger,
On a night when the moon is full.
Where to pass by a park ranger,
And the owls make a romantic call.
The cup placed back by the lantern,
As the reading is then told.
Hand out for a ransom,
Ever so gentle but persistence is bold.
I must have cobwebs in my cup,
As this path to lead is still yet to come.
Every morning when to wake up,
I wonder is the day the day my heart to be won.
Monkey in my pocket.
Warm and cosy inside my pocket,
Cuddly and adorable is a monkey.
Usually to save until there is a mock of it,
So to laugh at and feel lucky.
Nervous when things are on a downfall,
Not knowing which way to look.
With a monkey in my pocket is all,
To make use of and all it took.
When on a high and feeling above,
Nothing seems to matter.
Every so often though when enough is enough,
Holding the monkey in my hand for the latter.
Where to take away that uncomfortable feeling,
Held gently in my hand,
So to sense that correct meaning,
As to be leading those upon this land.
To show you the monkey in my pocket,
Can come as quite as a surprise.
As he rests within the fluff and the locket,
Both sacred things in all my life.
Shadows in the dark.
Under a darkened sky,
Like a sheet of gloom.
When the moon is nigh,
And the shadows dance to their own tune.
The lifeless trees hanging low,
Over-shadowing the path.
Through the gaps to see the moon glow,
A silver river shining with a craft.
To walk on water during this stroll,
The silent call of the wild.
A shuffle sound my attention stole,
With the forest air mild.
This long winding road I take,
Trees creating a tunnel.
Seeing eyes of a beast from the darkness make,
From a passing car lights my mind in a muddle.
To scurry out of nowhere,
This small dark animal of the woods.
Right into the beasts lair,
Taken from where it once stood.
No road sense to have,
Something I tend to also not think for.
Of that free wild outback,
To awaken from a dream where of no longer more.
I dream of one day.
I dream of one day,
The planes and cars will be gone away.
The roads to walk safer along,
And more to grow in the fields upon.
The stars shine in the sky more often,
With the sun making our hearts soften.
Where no more cold months feeling like ice,
Everyone having more of the sugar and spice.
A place to go for anyone to be,
Instead of somewhere that stereotype to see.
That dream I have inside my mind,
The one where to believe of the real life.
Where everything is there as it should,
With no excuses or any falsehood.
No backrooms or any hidden doors,
Without any spiteful indications of a lost cause.
No different departments where people work,
Thinking they are all in charge from where they lurk.
I dream of one day,
To wake up and all those annoying things are gone away.
Life is a game of mercy.
Life,
That feeling we all wish for.
Yet strife,
Holds us back to not want any more.
To move on,
To a place of pastures new.
Able to think upon,
Those areas that we only want true.
The stress,
Where life is a game of mercy.
To be blessed,
In hope that we can all have courtesy.
But time,
Only ticks forward.
Where that line,
We walk along has us feeling awkward.
No going back,
As the past stands still.
The mind intact,
Over the shoulder a mentality of ill will.
To recap over,
For a page that says it was right.
Only to stir,
The emotions that hold on tight.
Can it be,
The past that drags us down.
Or to see,
The future that makes us all frown.
Life,
Is a game of mercy.
The strife,
Is what hurts we.
The beast in the dark shadow.
During the day when all feels secure,
Though at times at a dim distance it will pry.
If clouds are not to be hidden for,
Till darkness allows it out in the sky.
Surrounded by starlit black,
The often twinkle to see.
Drifting clouds to pass by and attract,
And that cold nip on the breeze.
Not always to be seen during the night,
Whether to look for or not.
The beast in the dark shadow do give a fright,
When to appear with the vision got.
Peeping through the gap of the curtain,
A large snake like eye.
With a frown of deep thoughts of certain,
Deeply looking over from up high.
Fables told from many pasts,
Ones of Gods and monsters.
But a loving rose to show that lasts,
And an eye that forever haunts us.
The book.
Upon the shelf at the back,
In a dim lit area of the room.
A book for the strong hearted to track,
On its own gently lit by a light to groom.
Many have passed by blindly,
Some to look but to ignore.
A book that seems to be kindly,
To read and endure.
Only to be not of any ordinary book,
To judge its cover will be foolish.
Within to take just one look,
Opening up any ones deepest wish.
Slowly turning a page,
Words to foretell a path.
Of your life that is to be at play,
Never to be done by half.
Such wonderful decoration,
Attracting only to the right one.
Holding such inspiration,
With chapters telling you how it has already gone.
Can such a book be freely to grab,
A book that holds such dark powers.
Almost haunting the shelf it is at,
Above all others it towers.
Spoken of one that is never returned,
Mysteriously borrowers have vanished.
Where the book is found once again to be learned,
Of the such words that make the readers banished.
That fate is the key to the finder,
Whoever shall walk towards its place.
To the one that believes is the next minder,
Of a book that will shock the face.
Turn of a new leaf.
Clever little leaf of a page,
To turn for a new part.
Just at the right moment of play,
To pick up from for another start.
With the words to be spoken,
Fresh as a new daisy.
With promises not to be broken,
The path ahead looking slightly hazy.
Past chapters of unwanted occurrence,
To learn from with no regrets.
Though it matters for disturbance,
Prying eyes not wanting to inspect.
Yet balancing upon your head,
Is that book from the very first day.
Written down in truth to be read,
For the end is judgement of your life's way.
Evil in the vase.
Ancient times with a known fisherman,
Had been failed with love from where he stand.
Swore to reek revenge on all those,
Whom come near and of anyone close.
Butchered his poor victims,
Like gutting fish from the river they swim.
Used their insides to feed the sharks,
Before anyone realises of the wounded marks.
Time flew by with the continued fate,
Many poor souls dead of late.
Seen as a deed for the one lose for his own,
To take away all that reminded him of his loving home.
Until the day came when all was at lost,
The evil fisherman was now at his own cost.
Captured by the locals of another town,
Who witnessed a flow of blood drifting on the water found.
Tortured him of his own damn forsaken,
But the more they punished the darker his heart was making.
The skies turned black with fierce stormy clouds,
Wind hitting hard against the homes in the towns.
Where then called from a distance afar,
A witch to cast a spell upon this fisherman’s heart.
Brought with them a few urns of dust,
Magical potions told for when blown to curse.
Only the screams coming from the fisherman’s mouth,
Loud and screeching enough to make yourself scream and shout.
Then to torch the fisherman’s body seemingly possessed,
Piercing screams deafening and burning with detest.
A gust of black smoke drifted into the room,
The fisherman’s soul escaped from the fire but not too soon.
Colourful and decorative this attractive vase,
Caught the fisherman’s soul and entrapped at last.
The detail on the side resembled a cage,
Imprisoned in the vase he is and forever to stay.
Years past by with the vase hidden in an ancient tomb,
Watched by many strong men and hounds to prevent any doom.
Astronomers and philosophers came from near and far,
To study the atmosphere and of any change caused from this vase.
Tension spoken can be felt deep inside the tomb made of stone,
The wind blowing through the entrance causing a thrill to the bone.
Beliefs are of anger building within the vase's walls,
The evil in the vase from the fisherman is now called.
The dark magic he absorbed from the days he were punished,
Attracting onlookers to take the vase and be banished.
Powerful to hold the vase in any ones hand,
Feeling the strength built up of a thousand damned.
That a collector of artefacts made an offer,
Of all the riches in the world for the fee to cover.
Knowing that one day this evil spirit can be of use,
To rule by breaking the vase and to set loose.
Where many of a catastrophe caused from this soul in hell,
Allowing revenge once again by freeing him from under the spell.
A reason to do so will be of a hard lesson to learn,
One of more money than sense by breaking the vase and watch the darkness turn.
Missing a wish.
A heart set out for years to dream,
Many come by and go and some will stay.
The ones that stay are a feeling free,
To seek out and hopefully make for a play.
Wishing often that they come true,
Even to settle for the ones that go.
Just as long as the dreams shall do,
Exactly as a life will want to show.
So many stars to chase and catch,
Plenty of choices to make.
Whether to find the ones that do match,
Never to find ones that are a fake.
What if there to be missing a wish,
One that has never been thought for.
A wish that is all to complete with,
To continue on with more and more.
Setting out to grab hold of tight,
Helping others to find their true way.
Leading a path for all that is right,
Knowing there to be hope for another day.
An alien under my bed.
Lying awake during the night,
My bedroom window open wide.
The moon shining in so bright,
With my teddy bear by my side.
I begin to dream of a far away place,
Watching the stars twinkle and shine.
Then a flash to shock my face,
As it comes across in a straight line.
Sitting here watching as it comes close,
Thinking it wont come anywhere near.
Then it gets bigger and bigger as it shows,
And leaps into my window and becomes clear.
A shining object that makes no sound,
Bright as any orb or thing.
Jumps down from the window sill to the ground,
And hurries along under my bed to notice this peculiar grin.
I lay on my stomach with my head on the side,
Lifting the sheets that hang down to slowly peep.
The bright light is no longer to find,
But an odd blob of some sort of alien thing.
Big round eyes and flappy ears,
Grinning wide than I ever known.
A nose small and round as he comes near,
Short legs to roll on the floor with a moan.
I jump back up and hide under the sheets,
Hearing it rustling about.
Fearfully sitting up and listening to my own heartbeat,
As the curious sound begins to shout.
Disappointment in its voice,
I make another brave attempt to look.
The alien looking at the items making a choice,
Picking up my dirty socks, porn mag and an old library book.
I understand for it to be learning from these things,
But what can an alien pick up from me.
As it sniffs and licks and funny enough brings,
A look for anyone to laugh at if to see.
Then I realise this grin is not a smile,
It is his big wide mouth.
As he swallows everything all in a pile,
I giggle while watching him so proud.
And with every burp he gave,
His size grew slightly some more.
Until he emerged from underneath where he stayed,
To grow and grow as I thought to run out of the door.
Then it happened right there and then,
A funny looking alien that changed.
From a oddly shaped blob to a handsome man,
With the personality of what is under my bed although a bit deranged.
Hollow.
Long and meaningless this tunnel so hollow,
Just about shining up ahead a light.
Forever this dull path to follow,
My visions are not as once as bright.
No short-cuts or walls to climb,
Without corners to bend.
Not even a worry for the time,
This place that goes on and never ends.
How I got here is a wonder to think,
But it is my life that stands here.
No dream or hoping to awaken within a blink,
Deeply felt an emotional tear.
Visits from people come and go,
So brief and hardly to remember.
On and on in this hollow place to know,
Where I shall fall to my knees and surrender.
Dancing on the devils head.
She keeps dancing on the devils head,
Cleverly disguised for who she is.
But who she is is a disgrace for the life she led,
She believes the devils head is a better place to give.
Hanging around on the devils horn,
Promised of the wishes she makes.
Only her life to be known she wishes she was not born,
As every glancing stare and comment her breaking heart takes.
She finds the devils head a place to be loved,
Where her feet touch the ground is otherwise.
As she stays to the comfort of the above,
So confused to know from the truth and the lies.
One day the devils horn may pierce her side,
Awoken to her knowledge of what really hurts.
When will she give up on the devils life,
And the true way she will follow to convert.
Could of it been true love.
The thought of how nice,
A moment from the past.
If only to of lived that life,
Could of it been true love that last.
Dreaming of how it may of been,
Always looking back.
Paths to imagine to be seen,
Of a memory my mind shall not to lack.
A world yet to explore,
Though to feel the love already have.
Knowing it not to be too late for what's more,
Of a heart that forever locked inside an endless trap.
Set free not if never to find the one,
Filled the dreams that do satisfy.
Although the past had been and gone,
Yet held at the point from where said the last goodbye.
A gentle whisper of your name,
Sudden to hear and of strength.
If to be near with no reason of shame,
That true love we were always meant.
How long for a heart to last?
Emotionally ticking is this clock,
The time of life upon this door I knock.
Moments to share and to recall,
Learning the ways of how to live and all.
Set in path for certain pleasures,
Not to disappoint given these adventures.
Interests grow with every second passing,
Making every minute for longer lasting.
The heart beating with more to love,
With the room inside that will never be enough.
How long for a heart to last?
When it is the last thing you rely on and had from the start.
Felt beating throughout the entire body,
From head to toe and with every shared hobby.
Where do it stop and the ticking end,
Can the clock every repair to make amends.
Ticking forward and never to go back,
Perhaps the hours are what lacks.
A lot to give but never enough at hand,
As the time ticks only the heart beats alone where I stand.
Where is...
Where is the place not to be so sad,
The place to be where I can feel glad.
Where no one looks down at you to despise,
To find more teardrops on a petal from the rain than my eyes.
Where is the place to sense for being free,
The sense of out in the open and know who to be.
A place where I need not to wish,
And no one disagrees with a shake of their fist.
Where is the place that has no control,
That place I want where I can listen to my own soul.
The birds and animals have no fear,
Not to hurry away just as I come near.
Where is the place where to reach for the sky,
And touch the ground as the day goes by.
That place where I am who I am,
The place where I do as I can.
Where is the place where no one pushes you away,
Tells you what to do and sends your mind astray.
I want that place where the air is free,
Where is that place I so long to be.
Without feeling I have to do as everyone else,
All for the meaning of fitting in well.
Sometimes when people think the best of you,
The place is not right and how wrong it is too.
Where is the place to be that says it all,
This is right and I know it as I stand here tall.
Early spring.
The birds calling from the morning sun,
The rays shining before my day has begun.
The mist leaving the ground cold and wet,
To open curtains from the night where they met.
Hearing them sing yet not in sight,
Even the bare trees do not show up so bright.
A day to feel has already passed,
From the morning call that all day shall last.
A mind ticking away in a daze,
As the sun passes causing a haze.
Shadows moving forever changing shape,
Upon the ground of the night had made.
The clouds drifting gently by,
As if the mist has lifted into the sky.
Where the midday moisture from the dew,
Gives a fresh crisp atmosphere of new.
Glistening droplets upon the leaves,
Shining up those evergreens.
Washing the cobwebs of the dark season away,
Soon to see more colour that brightens up the grey.
Early spring flowers reach for the light,
Wild on the ground to open in the sun and close at night.
Garden of Dreams.
Visions set inside the mind for history,
The sense of its whereabouts a mystery.
A dark dream that holds so much to tell,
Old days of passion, romance though felt from hell.
The past living out its old ghost,
Though the thoughts are of what are below.
Reflections that trigger openings inside the mind,
As to see this life emerge and come alive.
Now is that can be seen with the naked eye,
Emotions for somewhere else that time went by.
Foundations fallen from another time and place,
Leaving only memories that hang around inside the minds space.
The buildings are not as they were,
Feeling to stand as where it once to endure.
A garden of dreams for a place to escape,
An orchard to pick, exotic fruit plots and seating through the gate.
Once a fair lady sat while eating an apple and reading poetry,
Suddenly a strange appearance in the tree to see.
Not of a bird that anyone will know of,
A creature that attracts by hanging upside down and flew from above.
Like black smog it approaches more near,
The apple drops from the hand startled as a man appear.
This garden of dreams is not for what was,
But a nightmare of how life changed and so too the cause.
The vision vanishes from my minds sight,
Leaving me in dismay of what happened during that fright.
Do this place hold such clues to a deed of darkness,
That parts of the place remain to direct the wandering mindless.
Doth the birds.
Doth the birds sing at first light,
For shalt it be still if thou birds doth not sing night.
As early the light shineth through,
To silence upon the morning dew.
Warmth beggeth from our coldest hearts,
To comfort our awakening moments thee depart.
Felt from the darkest shadow,
Emerges our life to the day to follow.
Seen hollow as the season bringeth,
The branches of the trees bareth.
Calleth close for those birds to sing,
Thee bread I giveth for them I bring.
So too they fly away,
As I continue on with thy day.
Until the night when darkness falls,
And hear the last bird to call.
To sleep for the days end has come,
Where thy begin again from the early sun.
Dreams are made.
Pick up your feet and walk to yonder,
To your dreams that have you to ponder.
Before your dreams take you to the side,
And have you wondering for the rest of your life.
Miss not the opportunity that come by your way,
Grab the chance and head out for this new day.
Dreams are made to only last while they do,
The rest is for you to grab and the choice is up to you.
No matter how far the path is to take,
Follow the need to create what is made.
A wish granted that has you feeling alive,
With every whim make it not pass you by.
For someone else will take the chance,
Grab hold of your lost dream as you look on and glance.
Where time takes too long for to come by again,
The dream you let go of and for to wonder then.
Then you sense the need to walk on to this place,
Only for your heart to see through but is it too late.
Older and wiser.
Seen up high,
At a distance and close-up passing by.
Given to an area to rest,
Supporting all that to nest.
Guidance as to direct home,
If to see from where you are feeling alone.
Built around as a central core,
Reaching out to grow more and more.
Slowing down in this grand old age,
Over taking by those thorns in the side of late.
Older and wiser to show for,
As the roots reach deeper to devour.
Leaving the swift harsh feelings to aside,
That only cling on to abide.
Darkened by the shadows it cause,
From below where to dig in its claws.
Through the rough eventually,
Where further to spread out to be.
Tough as old boots some might say,
To finally show off to across the way.
Sand in your eyes.
Sand in your eyes,
Blinded by the sun.
Dry from the open skies,
Like gold dust this nightmare begun.
Soft landing in the desert,
Caused a storm for miles around.
Whether to last and be remembered,
Screaming to be of no sound.
Miles to trek across,
This area of wide.
Such a hidden place being lost,
If never to again find.
Small sandstorms drifting by,
Swift to change for direction.
Lashing to the skin and to blind,
Resources first for inspection.
Suns glare beaming more close,
Surroundings for feeling claustrophobic.
Rays taking grasp to be enclosed.
Sudden urge to sit it out and stick.
No sense of which way to go,
And fear to stay.
Horizons nothing to show,
As the temperature begins at play.
Delirious as my mind drifts into a state,
Of mind games of sudden.
Moving objects to see with the eye of late,
Wonders by tricks of the sun.
An oasis to be seen,
Reflections glisten from the pool.
A temple to the side of this dream,
The sand creatures do not take me for a fool.
Heading towards before the desert kills,
A place I sense of being safe.
First a drink to fulfil,
Water to keep me going for a while in this place.
The sand creatures continue to follow,
Trails left in the sand.
Seeing a passage through the gaps of hollow,
Shining golden more brighter than this land.
Hurry to emerge inside,
A race against some things so small.
Praying to be able to hide,
Just then to feel on my leg something to crawl.
Scorpions are at close,
To tuck the trousers into the boots.
Fallen back onto what now rose,
An entrance for to run into loose.
Cool as any air can blow,
Such clean walls and floor.
Paintings of dark colours show,
A story to tell of such more.
Where to wander further in,
Burning torches that light up the way.
To a sudden gust of wind,
Fears if a good place to stay.
Up ahead a shining jewelled golden cup,
Attracts my very eye.
Markings to show where to pick up,
And drink for to escape this burning cry.
To reach this cup where it stands,
Under its beam of light.
A few areas at hand,
To work around to be in its sight.
A temple that can take you to your tomb,
Entrapped forever in this place of sand.
So dry and weak towards the end of doom,
To see the paintings are for that wishful land.
The cursed bride.
Their little princess,
She has always been.
Granting her every wish,
On everyday to be seen.
Known to have it all,
Just one look shall ask for.
To say twice takes her for a fool,
Then to ask for even more.
Years go by and dreams occur,
This little princess is no longer small.
Gradually making it all seem fair,
A boy to meet while having a ball.
Not to seem to toss aside,
Those held dearly to the heart.
Softly-softly to find,
One that will never be apart.
So to ride the stars from their nest,
Carried away in her carriage.
The boy suited for her best,
So to take hold of with hand in marriage.
Old wives tales do foretell,
Of bad luck and strife.
If ever to become unwell,
Before to begin the married life.
Alas it were not to be,
Curses became of her.
If only to of seen,
Her reaction when it all fell around her.
To know not to see the groom before the day,
Never to of been.
But one of whom touched her dress that cast away,
The one and only wanting dream.
Searching.
The path is short,
The star light dim.
The life to be caught,
Amongst all those within.
The search for that place,
That torments your mind.
As satisfying to taste,
On the tip of your tongue to find.
No clues of where,
Nor any direction to go.
In my mind I forever stare,
Knowing of a place called home.
Breathe.
Breathe this air,
This air that is free.
Take a stand and stare,
To see what you wish to be.
Think of not,
A second in front.
Be of this here you got,
The moment to bear the brunt.
Let it be now,
Of the first gasp you take.
That air of how,
The life that will not break.
Take the ride,
Flowing in the wind.
Absorb all to abide,
In your lungs to begin.
Follow that freedom,
The sense of release.
Where every thought has room,
To satisfy and please.
The life of Spinks.
Passers-by ignorant to his sight,
Down below where the light is not so bright.
Unaware of such a thing to be,
Squashed in a cage with others waiting to be free.
Mumbling sounds of people talking,
If only they to stop and instead to continue walking.
Not recognised for his inner beauty,
Just another teddy bear for to see.
Until that someone came along,
Took one look but preferred the other one.
Sadness fell upon his face,
Knowing how he is to remain in this place.
Suddenly unexpected did they return,
And replaced the other one with a choice so firm.
Decided how the pink nose is nice,
And away he went to live his life.
Lonely, naked and almost unloved,
But fate came down upon him from above.
Free from the cage at last,
Not even to look over his shoulder as he past.
And with the days now going by,
Spinks is the name and realised has a psychic eye.
Like rag dolls.
Locked inside a cage,
Or in a glass chamber.
No one to help face,
This torment and danger.
On show to spectate,
To laugh at and snigger.
Being pulled about unknown of their fate,
Whether to be set free or left to linger.
Their cutest nose,
Softest touch.
Many pass and go,
Leaving them to not hang on to much.
Like rag dolls tossed aside,
And bundled all in a heap.
If only someone to stop by,
At least to take home one or two perhaps even three.
Some are lucky to be looked down upon,
Others are sent to the darkest place.
With love to be able to live on,
Yet still in their eyes is the saddest face.
More are lucky than others,
Seen for their true self.
Some are just as they first discovered,
A cuddly toy all piled up on the shelf.
The beginning or the end.
Is it the beginning or the end,
As to start out but has it already began.
Leading the way upon this path,
Only to discover presence has already embarked.
To sit and wait until that time,
Setting out to meet connecting minds.
Like a thought held there to think,
Until the moment where to link.
To sense a beginning where to set foot,
To come across an opposite look.
So to be going this way,
Only where to be going that others stray.
A mind moving forward as to sense,
Then to proven other than to convince.
A brick wall to come to face,
Whether to bounce back from this place.
So this is what it all comes down to,
Even though to know already as to make true.
Therefore really is no beginning nor an end,
Just forever going around in circles again and again.
Like a moth.
In darkness to live,
Hidden in the shadows.
Mentally trapped where to forgive,
The light towards it goes.
A world so wide,
Only a life so small.
The moon light that shine,
Like a light at the end of the tunnel.
Attracted towards with its glow,
The distance yet to aim.
Surrounded by blackness for nowhere to go,
Onwards is the only lane.
Drawing in with no choice,
Flying high.
The wind creating a comforting voice,
And the clouds drifting across the sky.
Like a moth,
So small in the open air.
Alone and flying across,
A light cold and somehow fair.
No flame to burn,
Like a candle flickering in a room.
Free this moth to learn,
Of the surrounding glow of the moon.
The forbidden field.
Only just upon my doorstep,
Bordered by wooden panel edge.
Easily to pass and walk across,
To open fields that grow to be at lost.
Many take the time to walk along,
Keeping to the path that their feet are upon.
Crops seen to come and go,
Some quicker than the eye as so.
So near yet so far,
To reach out and grab of what are.
Alas this field is not seem to be real,
The forbidden field where all is still.
Through the trees to make an arch,
Sun set shines through the bark.
Pleasant as the sky is shown,
To end the day to encourage more to grow.
With such a hill too they flourish,
Above the rooftops if any to miss.
Surrounded by vast greenery,
On the forbidden field is only to see.
To prune a fine rose.
To prune a fine rose,
Like a rose between two thorns.
A love to take hold and shows,
From dismal and unwanted torns.
Taken from the darkest days,
Allowed to joyfully bloom.
The love to shine their rightful ways,
Together in life for eternity and gloom.
A past that hurts and torments,
Like a thorn in the side.
Away their true love sent,
All troubles that cause such strife.
The silky petals in their touch,
Caressing two gentle minds.
Soothing colours that surround so much,
An aura that glows all through their times.
Happy together they are,
Now to be hard to separate.
Their love to take them far,
On a path to lead and commemorate.
Love and betrayal.
The days are long,
Worried as the nights drew near.
Where had she gone,
A love that I wish not to fear.
I gave my all,
Showered with every and any thing.
This feeling to not fall,
A state of loneliness and dim.
I pardoned her every alibi,
Loved too much to dare.
She knows my reasons why,
Yet still she treats me unfair.
Subtle though firm,
I question her whereabouts.
Clearly disregard on her turn,
When to tell of all my doubts.
Challenged by another,
This I stand my ground.
Assured to think well of my manner,
And wishes to not hear another sound.
Time passes and I still wonder,
Watching the sun pass round the dial.
To the point of angle my emotions go under,
Another moment to impress for a while.
During the time she spends away,
Something of new comes about.
Hours piecing together each day,
The final gift to hand so no love go without.
On return of another late evening,
I grab her by the hand.
To show the creation I am to be giving,
As I swiftly move her feet across the land.
Curious of course she becomes,
Yet the excitement has hold.
To the point of where my heart beats like a drum,
Hoping she will accept this before turn cold.
As the days took no recognition,
And the nights drew near.
This to be the last jurisdiction,
For my love to continue on dear.
Before her up in the sky,
Bright to see her way.
As her excuse of being lost when nigh,
To come home where to stay.
The moon to light up her path,
As the sun faded from her mind.
Although to first at laugh,
Where now she truly knows how kind.
To forgive of all that has been,
To not know shall surely be untouched.
By my heart or to ever be seen,
This love I want so much.
Thankful she is true,
Yet again I see the sun turn the dial.
These shadows I watch to do,
Pass time and wonder all the while.
Away she is again,
In her lovers arms.
This time to feel true pain,
By all the gifts and charms.
Laughing at my own expense,
This deceitful act.
Her lover and her if this is meant,
Where to remain to be seen as fact.
Thinking this at the moment of night,
The moon I gave shines.
Told to her lover of why such a sight,
His laughter echoes across into my mind.
Pitching up his bow and arrow,
Aims high up into the night.
Questioned by her if this is the way to go,
He shoots and hits right between the moons eye.
Jealousy enraged inside his mind,
Knowing of such a true gift.
Broken to pieces just like my own kind,
A heart that shall now never forgive.
I am in a living dream.
I am in a living dream,
Felt presence of whom had been.
Close feeling of a love that is around,
Ghostly touches from the heart felt loud.
A mind set deep in some other place,
Gently almost feeling the smile on their face.
Fallen into this unknown domain,
But my life is of no such thing or sane.
Passing by as if to call in,
From where and to whom they bring.
Taking control of a dream inside my mind,
Surprisingly to see that metaphor come alive.
Wishful thinking puts a sad smile on my face,
Knowing they could of been to stay.
Torment of a moment to have,
To give up being teased with every thought to grab.
Gone reflections.
Every awoken morning upon the rising sun,
A quick glance in the mirror for the day begun.
Always the same and nothing to find,
A face sadden from the darkest night.
Not even a dream can make such life better,
If to recall the sleeping world to matter.
Something just something to make a change,
A twinkle in the eye or anything not so deranged.
Reflections wanting to light up just this once,
A day to think pleasantly for by any chance.
Maybe to wish too hard that had,
Gone reflections on that day I truly felt sad.
To stand in front of a mirror almost everyday,
Just this once and forever to suddenly of gone away.
Different voices.
Amongst a crowd,
A room full of people.
Voices spoken out loud,
Watching moving lips from all.
No matter whom,
Or eyes I look into.
How big a room,
It's all the same as you.
A phonecall ringing,
To answer with you in mind.
A different voice to be hearing,
But only one person to think of at this time.
To hear no one else,
Just your soft gentle words.
Under ones spell,
Deep in thought your presence turns.
All this has no meaning without,
Nothing is worth thinking for.
Different voices that may doubt,
But to know and believe in only one for sure.
Waiting for love.
Lost in a bewilderness,
To find a way only takes a kiss.
A mind confused and in doubt,
Waiting for love to sort the heart out.
Like a key to a locket,
No other can take away to pocket.
The truth within the eyes,
Opens up that world set deep inside the mind.
A life opened wide to enter,
Taken by the hand forever.
A face to smile of new,
Together to begin a destiny to see through.
Feelings that can not go amiss,
To agree on emotions without to insist.
No one else will matter,
As the beating pulse disregards all of the latter.
Scarred for life.
A moment to appear,
That first impression.
Longing to be near,
Leaving that lingering expression.
Shared that time,
On a mutual high.
Known for their prime,
Where to give a try.
But not to fail,
As the thought remain.
Feelings of being well,
With every joy that keeps sane.
To walk right into someones life,
Be a part of from then on.
As if to of known all this time,
That someone special where to belong.
A bonding that keeps them close,
Hurtful if to part.
Scarred for life where the cut shows,
Forever to be within their heart.
Love is blind.
One in a million,
They say for true love.
If only to feel within,
And be sent from heavenly above.
Of those with whom to stand out,
To be amongst with.
Where to see from words without,
Not a distance that shall give.
Love is blind,
For those who are around.
To see no other that mind,
Only that true heart beat sound.
To feel alone,
Even on the outside.
Listening to a voice in drone,
Comforting where to abide.
Where no one else no longer matter,
Not even those of time.
Forgotten from a mind that shatter,
To leave only the two that are of a kind.
The heart is mended.
What is there to destroy when the heart is mended,
All is felt and seen well where the mind is astounded.
A sudden change in life then all is bright,
Clearly to see a path of a guiding light.
Rescued from the fallen surrounding walls,
Previously come crashing down where to almost befall.
For too long to have followed the mind,
Now to know for sure this feeling deep inside.
Not to know what could of had surely isn't missed,
Only this true heart has never felt like this.
To lay awake in bed and dreaming,
Of that warm skin to touch while sleeping.
Where to walk in to a life accepting,
As if all along both were meant to be assenting.
My love.
My love,
My every awakening moment.
My heart,
My every emotional thought.
My life,
To breathe with involvement.
My soul,
As one to be sought.
My eyes,
Opening that world to see.
My ears,
Listening to every word.
My lips,
To whisper what will be.
My touch,
Feeling every pulse to lure.
My step,
To walk down that path.
My hand,
To take grasp and to hold.
My smile,
Beaming with every beat of the heart.
My mind,
Satisfying the body to be bold.
Begging for love.
Your torment your tease,
Yet tempting to please.
Such aching heart of a lonely pain,
Tell me how am I supposed to live again.
Your kindness your compassion,
This obsession for a strong infatuation.
This circle I have of dreams,
One day will it lead you to me.
These pitiful tears that slowly fall,
Caressing my cheek but no one to tell at all.
Begging for love during this dreary ways,
No emotions to feel are forever to stay.
To be my rock my life my every whim,
Just to take hold and allowing you in.
Or to throw aside cast over water,
To skim across to sink where to faultier.
If love saves the day then which day to be,
To count everyone hoping in the sun to run free.
The kiss.
I dream to be upon my lips,
That gentle touch within a tingerling kiss.
To feel your face close to mine,
Knowing what you think in rhythm of time.
Hesitating to caress your skin,
Is it wrong for my heart to let you in.
Deeply gazing into your eyes,
Passionately wondering what lies.
The warmth keeping us close,
Heating our hearts wanting what's most.
A slight shiver given in a grasp,
The cold where to no longer last.
Naked here to stand,
Your bodily warmth is to wear at hand.
The kiss is only the first step,
There's so much more of your love I to be in debt.
Stole my heart.
Like a thief in the night,
A warm glow grasp so bright.
To love and to keep hold,
Heart felt so bold.
Where to find,
Such a love so kind.
The need to become a thief too,
To find the one who stole my heart so true.
Playing a game of hide and seek,
Knowing somewhere with every heartbeat.
Until that day arrives,
When all else no matter to abide.
As all now to be compelling,
A mind only to be forespeaking.
Presence felt open to trust but absent,
Fonder of the heart from when it went.
Like a thief in the night,
How longer of this lonely life.
Frustrated love.
You say you love me from within,
But you're not here to hold me so this love I can not win.
Slowly to be breaking my heart,
With this feeling for always being apart.
Agitated to have you so near,
This frustrated love I keep hold so dear.
I fell for you from that moment when,
Your smile that carried my mind to forever then,
Now to feel lost and not knowing where to go,
It's upto you now to show me so.
Opened to you my heart, body and soul,
Meet me half-way and make this life whole.
You can not fail me now for sure,
The trust I have will build a love even stronger more.
Hard to keep contained.
Not knowing where to stand,
This built up feeling.
Tingerling from tip of the toes to the hands,
Finding the real meaning.
Obsession taken over the mind,
Sickly to be in love.
For trusting with who to be kind,
That gut worrying feeling when not enough.
Seeing a face or to hear a voice,
Gets the heart racing again.
Leaving with a short moment to make a choice,
Love at first sight everytime to be from then.
Wanting more of a felt presence,
Be it a word or two.
Vain to read with a personal sense,
Standing out amongst a room.
For sure it will be hard to keep contained,
To lose control and grab the bull by its horns.
Method in the madness where to feel insane,
Where love will make it seem what for.
Naturally to love.
A love to run away to the hills,
To escape all troubles that life spills.
Pain to feel to turn away,
From those that you wish to disobey.
Too strong of a love to let go,
Poisoned mind for how much so.
Cleanse this sin that I to doubt,
Naturally to love in my life without.
If to agree with everyones wish,
Choices to make of which sealed in a kiss.
Lost in direction to take,
My heart is what is in need to make.
Waive deep thoughts yet hard to ignore,
Hurtful to surface if to argue more.
To conquer with all their might,
Only love was simple from the first sight.
Is the need to justify my true feelings,
Yet answers are all that is seeming.
Whom is in need to pass through,
To prove that love is very so much true.
Words are not enough to define,
If only to read my mind.
Distant love.
Horizons broaden and far,
Keeping your distance for who you are,
To be caged in by so many eyes,
Yet it is only I my love who pries.
Fearing of the unknown,
Minds to wander and roam.
A distant love to cherish,
Only that if not to perish.
Closer to feel with each word,
Or to be lack of that keeps the heart heard.
A convinced mind for what is to be,
Absurd yet still if to truly believe.
To keep the faith near,
Of that surely you be dear.
Hopefully yours.
I dream,
As anyone can dream.
Not to let my heart rule my head,
I doubt of a path that is led.
The mind filled with promises,
To separate and allow the heart to win this.
That trust and comfort of by naturally,
Where have you been all along to see.
As if only yesterday,
The lonesome time that went away.
Feelings that are not so hopeful,
Though to wish are of one and all.
Openly allowing feelings to grow,
So sudden for just knowing so.
Can it be a dream of a place inviting me in,
Hopefully yours is my thoughts and heart to sin.
A sin that mustn't surely happen,
One that we feel what will be will be as of then.
Too strong of a choice to argue against,
This meaning of no words to take on a chance.
Valentine.
O, thy dear Valentine,
Thee one I adore.
My heart wishes to be mine,
Thou to have forever more.
To cherish and fulfil,
Smothering with love and kisses.
Feeling a warm sensual thrill,
A pulsing heart that skips a few misses.
O, Valentine say you will be,
Come closer if you dare.
Teach me that of happily,
Romanced and tender loving care.
Comforted all day,
Gazing into your eyes.
To night where thy stay,
Under moonlight and where stars cries.
Silver teardrops that fall,
Gently upon my lit up face.
Emotions that from the deepest heart call,
Stand me in thy place.
O, Valentine where art thou?
Anticipation I withstand.
Drown me in this life if thou,
Never wish to take thy hand.
A world of green.
The world of here,
According to I.
Seemed wonderful and dear,
To look out to the sky.
A bird each morning,
Singing his tune.
On the break for dawning,
Sending away the deepest gloom.
Glisten of sunshine,
Breaks through my pane.
Of window in line,
With my eyes strain.
A day to look forward to,
Where all begin from a dream.
Plans to see through,
As every morning seems.
Each day I do take,
This path that leads.
Through dense woods and pass a lake,
The fresh air as any stroll needs.
Wild fruits of berries,
Mouth watering to see.
A handful or two of many,
Perhaps I'll have three.
Still to hear the birds,
Delightfully to sing.
Trickles of light to stir,
Through branches of warmth upon my skin.
This path is always as,
Everyday I go for a walk.
Only the seasons change as it has,
At times to see wild mushrooms on tall stalks.
Reaching an overgrowth arch,
A foliage doorway.
Made from a trees bark,
Out in the open to stray.
Greens and browns throughout the year,
Mixture of summer flowers.
Most of to clear,
When winter over powers.
Peaceful life for both,
All living being and animal.
As if nothing can ruin as so,
Forever to hear the nature call.
The dreams I have,
Put my fears on edge.
That one day this path,
Will no longer be with pledge.
Taken away with no warning,
My life's promise broken.
To hear no more birds sing,
And no sun when awoken.
This dream I had,
Suddenly came true.
Eyes to open with a mind for something bad,
In a cold darkened room.
Utter silence outside,
Dreary clouds of an atmosphere.
Upon the wind that passes by,
A moldy stench from near.
Within my sights,
As I come close.
Soft yet strange green of bright,
Spreads far from beyond my nose.
Like a bouncy carpet,
But of everywhere.
On the ground and walls deeply set,
Covered anything to care.
As if during the night,
In my deepest sleep.
Green rain to fall so light,
Heavy to spread wide and deep.
A world of green moss,
Dense and smothering.
The past now lost,
This green of new covering.
Startled yet I carry on,
The path to take but cry.
How it turns out all wrong,
Never got to say goodbye.
The clouds disperse,
Revealing a clear sky.
A sight for much worse,
Pastel green turned by light.
My world has changed,
Into a swamp.
Surreal and so strange,
But to delight and prompt.
As like snow during the cold,
To fall and make life to pause.
Only green and bold,
A mystery for what cause.
The deeper into the woods,
I think as this a dream.
Where a new life could,
Live out as it seems.
This fairy tale I am aware,
Imagination where to come alive.
To emerge into a place to stare,
Towards a life that strives.
Grown from out the green,
Where pretty flowers are.
Of that I never seen,
Such creatures to dream from far.
Now I believe in fairies,
As more and more come out.
Even a unicorn pass the trees,
And bright insects about.
Like a worm that surfaces,
From its muddy home.
Only these from the green for a place,
The place where I also had grown.
The black beast.
A storm of no other,
Seen as a black beast.
Roaring sound in the air to smother,
Enough to make any sailing ship cease.
Dense and dark as a cave,
In the sky high above.
To fall will make anyone unsafe,
Will the blowing wind be enough.
A sense of evil in the air,
Flashes of light to stir.
To hide is of nowhere,
Bright shadows on land can not endure.
A lantern in a cave will make do,
Not even the lighthouse illuminates.
The storm of a beast do not shine through,
Like a wall to bounce off and saturates.
Fears for those out at sea,
Unable to see the bright beams.
If are there any alive to be,
Knowing how rough it seems.
The black beast rolls in closer,
Inshore the waves crash.
For high or low to escape is a blunder,
Time to think is of rash.
Screams heard aloud from afar,
The black beast brings terror to land.
Of screams that fade within the dark,
Fears that no one longer to stand.
The black beasts roar again,
Closer than ever of now.
Though on land to rip through every men,
Heard above all the screams in town.
Had the black beast fallen,
Homes under a sheet of gloom.
Many lives believe to be stolen,
This land is now doomed.
The brightest light to be seen,
Yet blurred as lost in a mist.
The lighthouse tall and gleam,
To bring hope to those out on a ship.
Land is now forsaken,
By all those that lived.
With the black beast still making,
Fear upon the ground for any that did.
Roaming around by itself,
Anything moving, breathing gone.
A ghost town set in hell,
Anyone to sense something wrong.
The black beast awaits,
For any that shall pass.
Hiding from the lighthouse of what it makes,
Shining up the dark.
Patience is a virtue,
Strength has been gained.
The black beast will subdue,
As a ship out at sea becomes lame.
The lighthouse stands attracting like a queen,
Beaming across bright and proud.
Beckoning those out to come in,
On gentle water of no sound.
The stern turns out of sight,
A ship steers towards land.
No longer to set sail again by night,
On board just a few men.
The light is on but no one is home,
An island all bright and alight.
Unaware the crew are all alone,
Soon to meet the black beast in all its sight.
About to cast anchor,
Heavy wet feet on port.
Cold panic caused by the change of weather,
Chilling for a last chance to abort.
With no one to greet,
Instincts are triggered.
To head first to the tower of bleak,
The lighthouse from sea it led.
Roars of a dark evil,
Screaming from the darkest corner.
Making knees and sight feeble,
Through the mind it tore.
Gripping to be entranced,
No wish to the tower,
A tower of lighthouse to glance,
Towards the dark roar of power.
The ship remained afloat,
Rocking side to side.
No crew left if ever spoke,
The black beast that came from above the tide.
In the light of day.
In the light of day that everyone follows,
Thoughts on the mind that are crucial to swallow.
Living in all life reaches for,
The mind to satisfy more and more.
Eyes to open as it shines,
Like petals in the garden that entwine.
As the sun softly falls down from the sky,
Our bodies then start to unwind.
Into the night where the stars shall sparkle,
And deeper in mind to be remarkable.
Opened to our wildest emotions,
Some to dream others under a love potion.
Those to be haunted by the dark empty sense,
Where the light creates a more intense.
Tears of an angel.
This wine this cup filled of sorrow,
Glancing in to a life unknown.
To raise to the lips for a taste to follow,
Not knowing where it to go.
Thinking for such intense path,
To walk all alone.
Of any sudden thought to pass,
Unturned are not left for a stone.
Wine from the tears of angels,
Tormented by demons of spite.
Past tense of emotions calls,
No sense yet only to smite.
Withdrawn from a dismal place,
Like blood from a stone.
A stone that any demon can break,
To dust where to weave a dream of its own.
Tears of a fallen angel to endure,
This wine taken pleasure to drink.
Poisoned from the minds yearning for more,
Despised for their lives are at brink.
Love.
If love is the flame of a candle,
The beauty in the eye of the behold.
Lips to taste as succulent as the bramble,
A gentle touch to make any heart bold.
To hold this flame in the palm,
Caressing its warmth and glow.
Within a breath of air to calm,
Each subtle step together flow.
No storm that is sent,
Can blow this flame out.
No unsettled water to drench,
Will this love drown.
To light up the darkness,
That blinds their sight.
A dim orb flickers no less,
A warm glowing love of light.
Love for the dancing ballerina.
At a first glance to be out of mind,
Passers-by ignorance with everytime.
Day by day to feel some sense,
A gentle movement, a pose, some form of dance.
Softly in the wind to see,
When the season of fall the ballerina in the tree.
Knowing of its attraction to have,
Yet teasing with subtle blindness when to grab.
A moment to see its sway,
There is more to this dancing ballerina some way.
A night when the sky is clear,
Stars twinkling and moonlight so dear.
Silver lining like a sheet of ice,
Upon the ground during an evening to spy.
Before the curtain call,
On closing for the daytime fall.
A diamond of a branch,
Glisten so brightly and to see its true dance.
The darkness holding a closure,
Like inside a jewellery box to utter a murmur.
Spiralling on one leg,
With arms arched up upon its head.
Love for the dancing ballerina,
Shaped as a tree if ever to see her.
Love can come in all shapes and sizes,
A dancing tree like a ballerina comes as any surprises.
