My poetry

Meeting

I have see you before,
In the flash of rain before the storm
In the glint of a dead relatives eyes
In the light of the stars before the sunrise

I have heard you before,
In the stutter after a grand speech
In the clap before the applause
In the crescendo before the encore

I have held you before,
In the heat before the burn
In the moment before it all
In the comedown before the downfall

To know you was my greatest mistake of all
For all you are, and all you shall be
Was my proudest memory
My painful goodbye to a face
I have not met before.

Funeral service

Make mine first class. Bury me with fine wines and rich foods.
Silver coins haphazardly tossed onto my eyelids.
The ferryman will be receiving a generous tip tonight.
I shall arrive fashionably late to the pearly white gates
and stand before St. Peter himself
He'll check his list- I'll be at the top of course
With the initials VIP carved next to my name.

But what if I refuse death?
Ask for my soul to be void
like an check with no signature
for no one
to remember me.
Perhaps that's what is fated for me in death?
Become my own currency.
To be passed around from person to person by word of mouth,
having my name be handed down through pockets of time until I, myself
am a crumpled up old note.
In fact,
don't give me a funeral at all.
Just make sure all my damn money has left my pockets and those silver coins have been put to better use.
If, and only if, I make it to the gates-
I'll beg for pity.
If I could
take money to the grave
I'd spend it on a return journey.

Elemental

You are like a thunder that lingers after
A constant power of endless master
And I, the lightning close behind
Forever obeying the rules of time
Your eyes of storm is where I’m drawn
And your voice of beauty leaves skies torn
And even the clouds that drift between
Still can’t see the love unseen
For you are heard and can’t be traced
And I am seen in a separate space
So we are different but do exist
Even great storms will wonder this-
We are a love, above and under
“What is lightning without its thunder?”

The Terrible Growth

The hand planted the seed
A growth that shall know no bounds.
With time came sunrise, and sunset
Gifting light and the stars to aim for.
Sometimes the seed would wonder why
The hands were so
Busy
and
Full.
Then the earth shattered.
Left baron
All the seed knew
was to grow,
to show that
it was
strong.
And that the sky was not where it would stop.
From the soil
grew a stem
and from the stem
grew a rose
But the stem
grew thorns
and the rose
drew blood
from the hand
that planted it.
The hands
That once cared for it
Returned with shears

The seed
For its
Whole life
Wondered
"Oh why,
Oh why? Does my beauty
glow so bright?"
The bloodied hand
grasped the stem
And in that moment
The two were
Together again

The Dawn

I was once called a moonlit night. So devious as I hid away all I did at that time.
I was cold and tranquil.
That no anatomy could describe my being.
I was simply being. And I, like other
creatures of the night, like the stars and moon, were products of illusion.
You reminded me that stars die and take others with them, leaving a black void to be filled.
You reminded me that the moon, like the Earth, is weak.
Its timid
Its fragile
and fruitless
It does not know the extend of the human mind
How we romanticise it and that
every part of the human body yearns to reach it.
You reminded me that I was infinite space, when you called me that moonlit night
and I just prayed for the morning.
Prayed
that I would feel a warmth, because every moonlit night does not carry on until sunrise. It fades and dies and with its absence reminds the light,
reminds the sun, reminds life,
that a better beginning has come.
So please,
when you arrive this morning, take me away.
An infinite evening does
not bring a sunrise; instead a restless picture
like a painting in a gallery leaping from the walls and spilling its colours on the floor.
I was your exhibition, brought to life. So clear were your words to me.
"I'm so sorry. I just never enjoyed moonlit nights."

Fruits of Labour

It’s easy for a light drizzle
To come and pass,
And for the rain
To darken the soil. That is what you wish for.
For the heavens to be consumed with darkness
Because light clouds don’t carry rain
You look to storms, but hush their voices
So that they may burst open, litter the ground.
Do their job, like the good dark clouds should, right?

You’ve always shared your load
On to the backs of steeds
Worked them, exhausted them
Wrapped binds around their mouths
From the dead skin of their own kind so they may not speak,
You want strong brown leather, I wear it
But they pull. That is what you wish for.
For the black main, dark vein, blind pain
Do their job, like the good dark steed should, right?

And when the soil stains the cloth
And when the shoot dies on the earth
And when rain ceases to fall from the sky
It will be you,
Who wishes your hands, dark like mine
Blood fall from the sky, red like mine
Stain the ground, young like mine
But you shall never
Wash your hands
Of mine.

The Furthest Shore

Sometimes I believe in God,
when I look at the endless waves
how they strip the shore of stone
their infinite power
contained within the depths.
Sometimes I don't believe in God,
when I look at countless lives
lost to the innocent blue
and how the colour reminds me
of tears at a funeral.
Sometimes God believes in me,
when I swam so far out
that I believed I was in another world
separate from all the pain
and fear that I ever carried.
Sometimes God doesn't believe in me,
When I washed ashore from months
being adrift in the channels of my mind
certain that this drowning feeling
was trapped in my own lungs.
For God, or no God
does not matter at all
I sank, I swam,
for miles
both ways
before I realised
I could never be saved.

The Sixth Sense

Quizzical.
Answerable.
I'm doubtable.
She's accountable.
She's the sixth sense.
The hands on my knees,
the lips pressed against mine.
Such a familiar scent choking in
the air around us. It was poetry that
I recalled hearing before. I heard it from
another's lips, another's hands. They had
told me about these sonnets before. Before I
listened with an open heart and they, they open
their mouth and bared their teeth. Their teeth that
hid behind a smile. A smile that made me forget the
sun. The sun was distant. Distant like her vacant eyes.
Eyes that read me aloud to galaxies and expected me to
forget. Forget her name but how? How must I rid of a
flavour so strong. Strong like the pull of black holes,
black holes in my life where she used to glow and
destroy. I feared for the moon when I told her
we were growing apart and the light was
gone. Gone through space and time,
words and rhymes, falls and
climbs. She climbed into a
memory and made me
accountable. She is
left quizzical. It is
unanswerable.
The doubtful
sixth sense.

Home

I had been away for a while and
Made family, stood at a dreary bus station
Nameless, speechless, tiresome, and slow
We saw our home trundling down the road.

They are strangers. Packed and miserable.
Pining for home and an escape from life.
Un-families stuck in single rooms together
Shoulder to shoulder, on a bus at this hour

I met a man wrapped warm in navy cotton
Suit. Tie. Scarf. I needed not his name but
His coat was warm and the smell too familiar
Of a ready made bed, being tucked in by Mum

Going down the road I lived on, an invite for all
A place to stay away from the cold of small talk
Or inclement weather patterns that leave people
Out in the rain, I went once more and watched

My home go trundle down the road once more.

Haiku 1: Brisk

Standing Autumn cold
A stranger that grants nothing
Except the Winter

Haiku 2: I, Like The Rain

The song of rainfall
Off-key, to beat. Harmony
Starts a crescendo

Haiku 3: Opulent Mist

Shrouded hillside town
With banquets, riches, and gold
Grown far from humans

Haiku 4: Winter's Feast

The crow; a snowflake
Blanketed the hillside ground
With no berries left

Haiku 5: Finding Forever

There's no forever
For her, but with him she had
Already found it

Waiting, Through The Evening.

Gnawed and chewed-
stood statutory at the foot of the mountain
petals flourished; nature cascaded.
Upon oceans of roses danced, churned, and perished
was colour and life so abundant to the eye.

Through earth that wove and sowed
thick beams of light
fingers through soil, and cloud
"Can you see the birds, the birds!"
Come falling down into their nests.

And a wanderer with a brown sack
of feed for his lot. His house and his heart,
grew closely with his wife over time.
A nurtured twilight send him home,
awaiting- all he needed. A sunset and starlight.

Hatching in the night-dampened air
fog. Cold to touch and moonlight ripples
down streams that shattered
and scattered pebbles, far too carelessly
for the morning sun to warm.

It repeats and trudges on in
undignified, courteous silence.
Marching as the time passes through hillsides.
It is lazy, too. Distracted- to see
a broken man; broken hearted today.

Sonnet 1: The Dance of Sea and Stars.

My feet became the icy shores adrift
Where you lay breathing in the warming surf
Curling my toes in to your loving shift
That sex is rising tides of my rebirth
We caused a wave so monstrous in size
The sky became a shallow pool of dark
And stars scattered in undisturbed white lies
The bed of night left cold; embarrassed daylight-stark
Your words - a boat; that sailed my sea so grand
Made birds of morn wonder the length of dance
A life cast off yet locked upon the land
Divines do cast rough-love; to sail - the chance
Oh Gods, set sail to land upon her lips
Or land among some star-lit scarlet hips

Home

The place that dwells where land meets ocean
Will forever live in constants motion.
And greenery shall grow in Evergreen springs
But leave this place as Autumn's birds sing.
Through the streets that supported the legs of time
Impressions left of marches, wanderings, musing-tall-climbs
A forgery of memories, paved in the cracked and crooked tapestry
That leads all the people to share a fond rhapsody.
Hand in hand, greeting the World with a heated soul; a friendly hello
To reflect the Summery shine of sun that gives this place its unforgettable glow.
And Winter come, we may see snow and brisk life be made brisker
This place's charm be warmth, wealth, and in a delightful whisper
Speak of life- until your life disappears.


Pacing, pacing, pacing, and pacing. My mind in wander
and continues racing, racing, racing, and racing; stops to ponder
as if tracing, tracing, tracing, and tracing to grow fonder
of spacing, spacing, spacing, and spacing. Gaps between
a long wander, an endless ponder, never fonder,
fonder in my mind.

Like,
perhaps a flash or a spark. Something bright; brightest thing I've ever seen,
in fact, a boom or thud. Something heavy; heaviest weight there's ever been,
no, no, soft and soothing. Something warm; warmest thing to keep me keen,
but then a brittle bite. Something mean; meanest me wont set me free.

Casting My Line

Sailing away, a night voyage
Where the tides pass as hours and a storm
Never strong enough to wake me from my slumber
With a full mast heart I'll capture
Or maybe even sink
A glimpse of that far shore
So temptingly close to get to
Yet far enough away to drift past
I'll run into the ground
Splinter
No repair strong enough to take me away
Back to this sea
Back from this land
Return to dreams
Return
Back to me.