Birthday letters never sent

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.

 

 

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a new poem

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.