Poetry


16
Oct 09

Reading the small print

reading the small print

What Am I?
With fluterry wings,
And furry brow?

I beat my head upon the moon.
The sky has shrunk,
And I have drunk,
The last of,
The silver,
Light.

What Am I?
With jittery sight,
And fuzzy eye?

I spiral into a dive.
And as I fall,
I see,
A pattern form,
With blacks and white,
Whirling round.

I land with a soft,
Crump,
And as I twitch,
My final throws,
I read the small Print.

An entry on a website for the National Gallery.  Possibly in 2001 not sure.
Poem was inspired by the picture.
Tim.


16
Oct 09

Bloke

Bloke,
Strangely sits,
Precisely,
Upright.
Black leather jacket,
Glistens.
Bold head,
Glistens.
Small round glasses,
Glisten.
Black and white tie,
Stripes down his white shirt,
As he sits,
Upright,
Strangely,
Creepy.


16
Oct 09

The tree I wish I’d been

The Tree I Wish I’d Been

Sometimes, I wish I could be a tree.
To stand with my toes in the earth,
To let the wind whistle through my fingers,
To let rain bathe my skin.
To suck cool water through my roots,
To harbour creatures.
To be a safe haven.

Instead I am a leaf.
Blown on the wind
I can’t control where I go.
I can’t stop
Whim carries me,
Kicks me in doorways
Slams me against windows,
Glimpses of what I could be.

Then under foot I am trampled,
Gorged by bugs
Until I become mould,
Feeding the tree I wish I’d been.


16
Oct 09

A Pool of Gloom

I sit,
Here in my little,
Room,
Surrounded,
By my little pool of,
Gloom.
Shimmering with reflected
Memories.
Of you.

I see,
In my mind,
A smile.
Big and wide,
Full of love…..
Shimmers…..
Gone.

Away,
Far from here,
Do you sit?
Do you have a pool?
With reflected,
Memories,
Of me?

I wait,
With breath baited,
Until,
I can return,
To find my love,
And together we,
Can banish,
Gloom.


16
Oct 09

A Rude Awakening

A Rude Awakening

As I lie in warmth,
Cocooned by hollow fibre,
I feel a growing strength of quiet.
A tumbling together of silences.
An intense pressure,
Squeezing the air from my ears.
My eyes fly open,
As a wild banshee roar,
Dopplers in a moment,
Then,
Stumbling,
Dissipates,
Into the background hum,
Of road and bird

How can I sleep now?


16
Oct 09

Earth Eater

In the dark there looms a shape,
A shape with wheels and teeth,
With fire in it’s belly,
And a horn the sound of grief.

Ssshrumguggrgruff
The wheels start to turn,
It’s two piece arm starts to move.
Down and to the fore.

Smoke and sparkes pour into the night,
Crufurcrufurcrufurcruf..cruf..cruf..
It’s toothed arm crunches up the slope,
The soil swallowed by it’s maw.

It’s arm raised –
It sighs, steamily in the dark,
Dreaming oily ragfilled dreams.
With a protesting grumble,
It ponderously turns,

It’s eyes glint with fire,
As it spews it’s murky load.
Krang!
Soil spills from it’s jaws,
Spattering on the waste heap.

It turns back to face the trembling bank, and…
WhhrrrrrrrKlunk.
It’s arm lowers,
It’s maw closes,
And on graunching tracks it advances.
To take another bite.


16
Oct 09

Grace

I drop it

My direction gone,
I stumble.
Eyes dim.
Ears closed.
I stoop into murky shadows,
Searching…

Brilliant crisp colour, I used to see.
Songs of joy, I used to sing.
All… tarnished.
Colours peel in the damp,
Stripped to grey.

Mist muffles every step.
No longer sure where I stand,
I reach out and grab what comes to hand…
No warm touch on finger tip,
No warming heat,
Only cold,
Jarring my arm,
Sending sparks of ice,
Deep into my heart.

Heart feels nothing.
Just aches.
Empty.

Knees are hurting.
Gravel stings.
Ears strain.
Hearing nothing,
Seeing nothing,
Desperate,
I shout.

A touch on my shoulder.
I turn,
You smile,
You reach out,
And give me again,
A shining light.
Mists recede,
colours return,
I run, shout, sing, heart light, eyes bright…

There…
In the corner of my eye…
Distracted I turn…

I drop it.


10
Oct 09

You Knew.

I saw your face,
You knew.

I bowed my head,
I couldn’t look.

My throat constricted.
My eyes prickled.

I saw your face,
You knew.

I raised my head,
My eyes stayed low.

You reached out a hand,
I saw it,
I knew.


10
Oct 09

The Smile

I laugh.
She smiles.
I smile.
She screams.
I wonder?

This is rather a ‘who am I?’ style poem 🙂

In fact I wondered that if a vampire cannotbe seen in a mirror, then it follows that he would never have seen a reflection of himself, and so would have no idea just jow scary he was.