Sunday 17 February 2013

Waves Wash Over Me

Waves Wash Over Me

A million ocean's depths turquoise blue,

their piercing brilliantness catches me,

drenching me in love, passionate, and true,

resistance futile, trapped never to be free.


Romance blossomed as rich red roses grew,

each scarlet coloured petal, more unique,

each precious bud gave my heart something new,

until a new love you began to seek.


Now I'm alone, exposed as a coastline,

thoughts cascade like waves on wet sand,

making fossils out this heart of mine,

my teardrops beat to the own marching band.



How much erosion must take place – before

I find love to hold, cherish, and adore.

Saturday 16 February 2013

In the witness of God

In the witness of God
     
A million ocean’s turquoise depths danced,

brilliant piercing coolness catches me,

drenching me in love, passionate and wild,

resistance futile, trapped, never to be free.

Romance blossomed as rich red roses grew,

each scarlet coloured petal, more unique,

each precious bud gave my heart something new,

and then a new dawn you began to seek.

Now I’m alone, love’s lacklustre storm dart

striking thunderbolts and lightening through

the jagged pieces of my broken heart,

ripped further by my memories of you.

Marriage is a sacred religious vow.

How could we even consider it now?


Count up those books whose pages you have read

Count up those books whose pages you have read

Count up those books whose pages you have read
Throughout the years of your life,
The dreams they have inspired,
Both in a sleep depraved state
And an over eagerness to change the world.
How many ‘what if’s’ can you count?
How many ‘if only’s’ can you recall?
Brain charged, heart fuelled,
How many lost loves?
Literary and literally.
How many half started ideals lost by the way?
How many motivating tales, lost by real life?

Friday 15 February 2013

Count up those books whose pages you have read

Count up those books whose pages you have read

Count up those books whose pages you have read;
Those self help guides;
Helping you hide from the real world;
From the real you?

Did anyone move your cheese?
Did you look for it?
Did you check down the sofa?
At the edge of the desk?

How much chicken soup did you consume?
Was it good for the soul?
Or more nourishment of egos?
Did it mend your broken spirit?

Count up those books whose pages you have read
Those self help guides,
Did they guide you to,
Or from yourself?

Thursday 14 February 2013

Elland Road

Elland Road

Shuffling through the crowds,
Wearing my colours with pride,
The stark white, banks of blue, and slashes of yellow.
Yorkshire pride fills my heart.
My blood, is white, blue, yellow.
Horizon of bodies, feeling the same.

I miss the sound of the wooden thud,
As I walk the concrete steps
It’s dull echo a striking reminder.

The whistle blows as the wind whips my boys.
The tension, a minute in, is unbearable.
River of red facing us,
Daring us to push on, to attack.
The man in black points.
It’s too early, please not now.
Unknowingly, I hold my breath.
Tension in my fingers, my jaw, my throat,
My teeth clench,
My eyes fixed on the target,
Pushing, willing with all my might.

With a gasp, a release, I scream.
Ecstasy, elation,
He’s done it.

The chants, roars, screams, whoops,
Fill my ears.
A child like grin on my face,
Like a Christmas morn.

Tension and ecstasy jostle for control
of my heart, my head,
for the next 90 minutes.

The man in black blows again.
Its all over, we’ve done it again.
Slowly making our way through the exit,
No longer fighting for first place.

Wednesday 13 February 2013

I killed them

I killed them

I killed them, but they would not die.
Their resilience to all, heartbreaking.
Nature’s best, homeopathy,
Laser beams pin pointed,
Chemical reactions not revolutionary enough.
Prayers, chants, mantras.
Positive, pragmatic thoughts,
All in vain.
Beaten back beyond the border,
Once, twice,
But three times no.
The fight harder than the disease,
My body’s system sending signals,
My brain unable to comprehend the direction,
The pain, the sickness, the loss.
The illness I can fight,
I have fought and won before.
The loss of myself is harder.

The hard battle is for myself.