Poetry Blogs (Years)
julie callaghan on Covid and the witch (4 hours ago)
Where did the years go? Spent
Swimming through life like a dolphin? No
Spearing like a guillemot into the sea? No
Perhaps basking in shallows like a shark? No
Or flashing in the sun a la flying fish? No
So where did they go?
They got sucked like flotsam into a whirlpool
While I tried to keep my head above water
Monday 27th April 2020 10:59 am
Those shadows the epitome of time
let me bruise them so they cannot move,
make those pale moments clearer
in the light of the hurt-
a life no longer drenched
in shapes eclipsing the stopwatch,
now I can pause time when I want to
escaping the minutes for hours,
see the clouds in still shift,
alluding to an illusion
of some fading minute,
the hands of the clock skim ...
Sunday 5th April 2020 10:49 am
Those dulcet shadows
chased my figure,
dancing. a motif,
to end of those pages,
a requiem of endless sobriety
to those euphoric seconds
lost to me.
Tuesday 10th March 2020 8:18 pm
Moulded leather feet
marital as those laces unending
began to weave, dictating the vows
in material, aesthetically strung
beside my fingers,
the draping knot tripped
below my tough coat,
falling towards pavement,
unconscious and disregarding,
tiptoeing back to the perceived years
that are mine.
Saturday 7th March 2020 10:59 am
Lovely smiles at early morning,
Poetic voice says: “Hello”
Shiny eyes yearning look.
Asking happily “How are you?”
When did we met and where!
Few years ago, may be more
It was crowded party there
When she shines out of the door
We had a table, but no talk
Merrily smile, she looks shy
Asked timidly can we walk?
I shook hands, then walk...
Friday 1st March 2019 2:52 pm
It is so many years
since I felt some part of me wane:
all those thousands of days
since we spoke of nothing -
could find no words;
and even many more
since there were whispers
as we lay naked in the night
or in the cottage garden
beneath the harvest sun
It is so many years
that I have known that dark void:
deep within my very soul
and in all those long ...
Thursday 28th June 2018 3:04 pm
Saint Stephen's tale
It's Friday, sweets from Mrs Smith
Degeneration X and anarchy
Frankie's words: two tables, four chairs, suspension.
Discovered passing the buck, and thus passed it.
Stole the show with Twenty-one Questions, four dancers, and a singer.
First girlfriend changed everything, "You're young, she has baggage - get rid..." … did...
Sunday 7th April 2013 3:01 pm