Tag Archives: Fire

Girl I will never see again (poem of mine)

She was beauty’s muse,
I saw her once
Alone in a cafe,
Elbows propped
At crooked angles,
The soft trail of a jaw bone
Framed with a curl at the neck.
I felt as if,
My bones had ruptured,
Legs gave way
At the knee,
And feet turned webbed
On the wet cement.

I asked her once
Or twice
In my head
If I could take a seat,
We turned pages of books
Like wind turns leaves on an Autumn day
And I felt the brush of her wrist,
Soft as a newborn lamb,
And the warm glow
Of the brown tinder in her eye,
Glowed at the hearth inside me.

I asked her once,
Or twice
In my head
If I could take a seat,
And I watched myself,
Walk on by,
A turned face,
Turned down
Against the oncoming rain.

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Talking to you on a Sunday morning (poem of mine)

Understand
That I sway
Red and raw
When you talk to me
And inside fire burns
To smoke
And I hear the whistle
Of its embers.
I am distracted,
But,
I try to hold your gaze,
Try to untangle
This vineyard of escape
In my brain,
I drift
to lift a branch
And see eyes,
Heavy behind the purple of the grapes.
I drink the wine of your skin
And lay still
I turn my head away
Then back to you
We talk
Like old friends.
Air buzzes
Electric
As a hive
Weighed down with honey.

In shrieking darkness (poem of mine)

I lie awake
And breathe dark
Hope
That thoughts
Will soften with the light.
I try to pin down
This ferocious struggle
Restrain
It’s piercing scream,
Contain
A wailing midnight symphony.
I converse with myself
And every word
Is spit on my flames.
I cannot lie here
And burn in the blackness
In my mind I pace
The long corridors
And I shriek
Till the echoes
Rattle the walls.
And I sit,
Till my shadow
Singes the floor,
And clocks melt to liquid pools at my feet
And boredom dies
From restlessness.
The room is silent
And I am silent
Bandaged
In shrieking blackness.

Streets and streets (poem of mine)

Streets and streets,
A long sun
Casts golden shadows.
Towns and towns,
Waves of insects,
Like wings on horses,
Wind,
Fire,
Fields like flaming torches.

Grass breaks like green water at my feet,
Blue eyes swim
Like pools of daylight.
Light stretches its long arms through window panes,
While flowers gleam as gilded orbs,
Fireflies,
On Neptune’s fork.

Promise rises
Like an Easter shroud.
Fields and fields
Of flaming torches,
Long shadows
On long roads.

This night (original poem of mine)

Rosewood flames
The cedar ash
And petalled air
Pulled close to the hearth
A warmth
And stirring of content
Seeks to raise it’s blue cold eyes,
I feel the flutter of it’s lashes in my chest
The twilight that sunk
Hidden in the cape of dark,
The nightshade of a day
Leaning towards the next light.

I built this shelter,
Where the sweet gloss of fire
Sugar coats my night of quiet,
And the black squares of dark
Curtained in the privacy of my
Silent mire.

The sounds are earthly pale
My foot is numb
And the mundane
Artefacts of life
Are show and tell
Arranged
As it should be,
Their planks of warmth and years worn
Are here to greet me
This night.

So long
I have longed for the silence of clinical insignificance
Where my thoughts were not fought back
For fear of never leaving
that minded graveyard.
The dusty soil with many footprints and questions
And those sad times on the square
of an empty bedspread
And only right angles
For my routine.

Thank you for this night,
Sweet Lord that never died in me.