Bereft. A haiku trilogy. 1. Ebb The last ebb of life, seeping like sweat from my pores. Let it go, you fool. 2. Ash My heart is sliced from my chest, burned alive; all feeling, now ash. 3. Bereft My solution lost upon a sea bereft of possibility. . Well, I hope you’ve had a better week than me. Steve 🙂 Continue reading Haiku Friday. ‘Bereft’, a haiku trilogy.
When will I be free of this life and all its bitter swill? Force fed, every grueling meal mixed with bile and contempt, returned to sender in a spray of misgivings, a spent force that paints the tile in acrimonious colour. When will this life leave me be, so I can rest in audacious peace? When will I sleep and dream of nothing, free from pain and imagination that only ever led me astray. When will I break the chains you locked me in, through no fault of your own. When will I leave this sad and weary shell behind, … Continue reading When (part 3). A poem.
When did I lose you? When did I turn my back on you, then turned around and you were gone? When did any hint of recognition leave your eyes. When did I become a third wheel, constantly turning out of place in time and space. When did this supple heart grow dried and worn, to wither in the sun like a weed. When did I lose the will to be with you, let the scales unbalance and my love be cast aside in bitter rebuke. When will I ever learn? Continue reading When (part 2). A poem.
When I talk to you, when I’m lost to the sanguine artfulness of your words. When your silken, soothing tones surround me like the warmest winter blanket. When the only light I need to guide me is in your rainbow eyes and sunshine smile. When the aspect of your face is the only solitary star in the darkening sky. That’s when I know I’m home. And that’s when I awake and know I’m still alone. Continue reading When (part 1). A poem.
I’m tired. And my drifting aimless gaze settles on a distant mist-like haze that wells up continuously inside, like savage, misplaced pride, and makes me drop like a stone into waters unknown. Lost on cruel tides that wend the capitulating ocean to its end. So tired. If only sleep could solve this quandary, instead of leaving me on the periphery of a world that spins aimlessly, through head space and trickery, and leaves me wanting nothing less. And nothing more. Just tired. Time to leave this place. Steve is a literal starving artist. Please keep the dream of poetry alive … Continue reading Tired. A poem.
I’m forever haunted by this phantom limb, writhing in my sleep, guilt stricken for my sins. I see you in every couple on the street, and at the coffee shop, where we drank each other in. It feels like you’re still across from me; the conversation, imagined and forlorn, accusing eyes that follow me no more. Your ghost absorbs my days and nights, a peripheral blur, just out of sight. Time heals all wounds; such perfect sense, but not in my experience. You’re the limb I lost, that still persists. A phantom limb, my will insists. Continue reading Phantom Limb. A poem.
Mourning Flowers 1. The flowers in bloom, painted like rainbows in June. Yet, you tear them down. 2. You cast them aside, like radioactive waste. And now: here you are. 3. They are reminders of all you’ve reaped and sown and lost. Mourn your life. Continue reading Haiku Friday: ‘Mourning Flowers’, a Haiku trilogy.
I’m let down, again. Every letdown compiling like a coded compunction, in synapses despoiled by repetition and disfunction. Swarmed and overloaded, categorised and goaded. Too many times to make sense of it all. Letdown, like so many times before. Who has any tears left to cry? And why bother to even try. Continue reading Let down. A poem.
Causal expectations and experience will say that I will just gain nothing from this long and tedious day. My movement winding down, corroded, insecure, scattered springs, nuts and bolts and thoughts abound, unsure. Who’s to say my automation is better than before? Let cogs and gears grind on and on as I cogitate some more. I was once wound so tightly that I thought I’d never slow, but now my springs are stretched and worn, so tired and overblown. Tick tock, cries the clock, round and round it goes, this clockwork man keeps winding down, all the way to zero. Continue reading Clockwork. A poem.
Her apple eyes look through me, Auspicious in ambiguity. To think, I thought she liked me. Extra ego in perpetuity. Continue reading Hate. An Acrostic Poem.
Perish the thought, along with all the others. My mind is a blank canvas for me to paint anew; for me to spray all my hopes and blues. Continue reading Perish The Thought. A poem.
Would that all these angry thoughts could energise me to action, rather than distraction. These angry thoughts, hiding fears and tears Everlasting. Continue reading Angry Thoughts. A poem.
I wander down life’s corridor. Testing doors: I open, close. But through this hall I walk alone, the only path I’ve ever known. “Save my soul,” I cry tonight. Take my hand, hold me tight, help me find the door that’s right. Kill this pain and bring me back to life. Continue reading Corridor. A poem.
I don’t hate you Nothing could be further from the truth Just because I don’t smile when I look at you Or avert my eyes as I catch yours Just because I get tongue-tied when you’re near And I avoid you whenever and wherever I can Or talk to others about you rather than directly to you I don’t hate you Nothing could be further from the truth The prospect of losing you Is my greatest fear And I am the greatest fool Because eventually I will Continue reading Nothing Further. A poem.
How I wish to see the light No matter how much it hurts and blinds My eyes, so used to darkness here To anxious crowds and bloody sights Wave a torch, a beacon shining Like a firefly that flutters in the night Something I can reach, to aspire Before the final round of this fight When the canvass finally catches me Punch drunk and exhausted Let me see that final light And know that it was worth it Continue reading See the Light. A poem.
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