time eclipsed responsibility
edged off the horizon
my jet set life twisted and dived
into a burning broken heart, but still we
play feel good tunes on repeat
Every night…the same dream –
we stroll under soaring moonlit truth
to a marching melody of forgotten love
and rainbow hope
Morning comes, morning walk
through wildflower fields and I count to 224,
and deconstruct letters never sent
as a distant church bell so softly and sweetly calls
but I’m not yet out of time
as fragmented circles surround me
with no straight line solution
ready to seal my fate.
Written 21.5.2019, Folkestone, England.
When I have the time I go along to a poetry club. It’s very low-key, and run by my neighbour the shepherd. Here is the poem I wrote yesterday morning for it which the members there seemed to enjoy. Brand new for spring.
Rock, Paper, Scissors
I shut my mind to it all
who cares the stars still sparkle
in this cold black night when the brown leaves
are just like brown paper waiting to burn.
the evening will fall and drag me out of to the golden lake where
you first held my hand and said something about time
could always heal, but you didn’t tell me the
sun hardly shines this way.
hope walks against your lies
one day the breeze will settle the clouds, and the sun will
melt your snake skin coat and even your
exotic perfume won’t help you.
four thousand tired trees surround this empty heart
I’ll talk to blurry animals about electricity as
a child’s balloon floats by out of time
losing hope to the sky’s fluorescent glow.