Dawn light filters through
shutters angle a rainbow
I wake warm space beside
my eyes look into yours
Double shadowed wall
new day hand-held silence
you and I the night before
two strangers at the door
EDC Writing – Believing Sight Unseen
'odd lines, short poems, bits of prose'
Dawn light filters through
shutters angle a rainbow
I wake warm space beside
my eyes look into yours
Double shadowed wall
new day hand-held silence
you and I the night before
two strangers at the door
I caught myself talking
to a man I didn’t know.
He didn’t answer, as if
I wasn’t there. Yet he
asked questions I ask
myself. Strange man
I hear him now and then.
~
What’s with the conscience
hanging out online. What’s
that you say, you don’t lie.
You said you touched her
yet you’re here, she’s there.
What the, hey, you’re smiling
damn, you did, she told you.
~
He didn’t follow, just hung
around a while. All it took
its gone now. He thought
he’d lost her, that’s why she
walked away, his loss that
someone still unknown. He
cried, a strange man alone.
Leave it to the newspapers
let the talking heads confuse
not to your taste, just eat up
the daily news, no you can’t
change your view, you can’t
disagree, can’t say you’re not
diseased, what’s that, can’t
drink tea, I told you you’re ill
He stilled
their years between
asked her
to walk a while with him
~
He asked
where you coming from
then remembered
he’s part of
where she’s been
~
He wasn’t looking
he didn’t ask
she’ll find him
when he’s lost
Five, seven, five
three misaligned
seasoned, second
language, tongue tied.
Euphoria, heart felt
words more or less
syllables their beat
uncounted, free to be
heard, to be read, as
awakened unsaid.
Screen scrolling
seeking moments
to slip beneath
to take her
with his words
~
You’re right
last night
one time only
don’t tell my heart
it’s awake now
~
Can’t be her fit in
a moment here
a rushed goodbye
her kiss of hello
barely dry
Rain tined skylight
frozen, strip searched tree
buds hardened, his mistake
her excuse, it happens
blue mirrored, light angled
hard winter, edged spring
Earth spins, all bets on again.
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Our days roll onward like an oceanic tide, mirroring the ever-moving human element that defines precisely who we are. During the more trying moments, we feel as if we’re surging out to sea without a floatation device. When grandeur and enlightenment take a prominent position within our worlds, we drift back towards the shore and find relief in the wavering sands. A Declaration of Our Rippling Days is a poetry collection that will guide the reader through these ebbs and flows while taking them on a journey from furrowed emotional lows to breathtakingly inspired summits.
You the last to see
I believe so, maybe
You’re not sure
Is anyone with her
~
Movement, no sign of
Cameras, swivel heads
Moment of inertia
Her still, mass appeal
~
She smiled, or is it smiles
He heard, looking up
Hands, mixed fingers
Missing persons, maybe not
Welcome to the UK
walk straight in
you’ve got a piece of paper
wipe your arse with it
have a good weekend