Poetry Blogs (memories)

As I stepped into adolescence
I used to spend hours, daydreaming,
the perfect love, the perfect life
walks among raindrops
slow stepped waltz
piggyback rides and, winks caught off guard.

Then, life happened.
the zest for life, escaped from the windows of the mind
the daydreams,  stayed dreams
belief in love simply vanished

Then you came along
with careless sweet talks
toothy grins ...

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I'm reposting this poem with the audio I recorded of it (as a song) to commemorate my father and the other soldiers who fought during WW2 in Asia - The Forgotten Army of Burma - for the 75th Anniversary of VJ Day

The Bayonet In The Shed

He put it there in forty nine,

in a woodworm riddled drawer,

wrapped it in a greasy rag.

A remnant from the war.

On top of it he laid h...

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It presents gravels before my feet,

The sea

When it meets the sand,

Holding my longing gaze as I stand

Atop coffined treasures

And pebbles filled with flints made from memories,

That weigh my slippers

Down to this deserted beach.

Myriad secrets encaged in their bottle shaped ampoules

Float aimlessly like vagabonds do.

Imprisoned in cells of reminiscence,

They await their acquittal somet...

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i started to question the connection

& couldn’t breathe

images mix up in a daydream

that replay constantly 

sometimes a new image appears

did someone change the videotape?

these images and connections aren’t only in my head

but i fear this is only gravy,

a topping or an extra side 

or just a dessert you fancy

it must be deeper

than remembering

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distant memories of 

what we no longer are

as our former lives are out the door

how do we move on

and build a passage to tomorrow

when i look up to the skies

and only have the stars

to remind me

the best moments 

are our yesterdays

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Marketplace

This space is like a ghost town

Trestle tables row on row

Echoing with the hustle bustle

Vendors cries of long ago

I held my mother’s hand

And listened to them shout

‘apples sixpence a pound

Come on get your money out!’

Comics stored in cardboard boxes

Toys stacked high on stands

Gleaming in the Friday sun

Just out of reach of sticky h...

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Needles & Thread

I remember her sat at an old Singer sewing machine

Turning the handle in the half-light of autumn

Making dresses and skirts for herself

So that precious pennies could be invested in children

She made me a Lone Ranger mask

From remnants of black cloth

She had left from one of her creations

I wore it with pride and a whoop and a holler

When ...

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The shape of our love, our version of it,
Exists in bubbling thoughts of former lives
And constant dreams of distant hearts
Where our lives are entwined

Ripples of waves intersect
Jetting dangerously close
But never on the same path
Turning heads, looking back

How do we get off this track
Without losing control,
Without knowing
Where it will go

The inhabitants look upon us
Making wave...

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Only dew drops now remain 

atop blades from the torrential rain.

The lightning strikes 

lessen in succession.

But the dew remembers 

from where it came.

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The production commenced 
with actors on stage 
portraying the love we once had- 
the grasp of her cheek, 
the look in her eyes, 
as he folded over himself 
to make her swoon his way. 

Amongst an empty crowd, 
the curtain’s now drawn, 
the actors have gone home, 
the final act is done, 
it’s time to get on. 

Hanging on for an encore, 
hoping for another show, 
relishing in the memori...

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Images and words 
suddenly appear, 
words longed for 
hitting deep 
as they wrap around 
and envelop me,
overwhelming yet satisfying.

Since our last meeting 
your ghostly presence arrived 
in the oddest of places: 
romantic restaurants, 
quaint cafes, 
art galleries, 
long car drives, 
concert halls, 
walking in a park, 
every room of the house, 
and late at night in bed. 

Days l...

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My house is so full of empty spaces

where you used to eat, sleep and be

My days are now full of silence

because you are not here with me

My thoughts are full of worry

was it too soon to say goodbye

My eyes are still full of tears

I hope you didn't see me cry

My body is full of loneliness

you were my companion to the end

My memory is full of good times

sha...

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I wonder what happens

To the poorly drawn images

We keep abreast as children,

Sheltered inside our notebooks and their crinkly pages.

I envisage those pages accompanying

Balloons, bubbles and butterflies,

And the colors in them adorning

The sallow face of the sky.

I like to believe that my poorly chalked out blades of grass

Somehow appended the greenery on earth

Or th...

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He orders black coffee,

soup and salad,

steak and potatoes

before his apple pie dessert

at buffets on the other side of town

A routine meal

that would years later

be remembered

as his reward

Dad loves on his Alaskan crab legs

with a side of melted butter

While Mom orders chicken

at a seafood restaurant

She doesn’t offer to pay

while Auntie tells ...

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Life is simple, yet complicated by seemingly insignificant moments that make all the difference in the end.

It is the unfiltered thoughts that escaped from our mouths in our weakest moments

It is the words that ruined relationships because we were too stubborn to apologise

It is the time that has passed between friendships in which too much has happened to reconnect

It is the memo...

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I died yesterday

With a pen in one hand and a diary in the other. 

The latter's pages were inlaid 

With prints of my curry stained fingers, 

And splotches of tea, 

And smudges of ink, 

And spools of memories,

And streams of ridiculous cravings. 

I fashioned the contents with the loose threads 

I'd been stockpiling since forever. 

Vibrant, prismatic, but half-completed...

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The Small Things

A pinecone from a Bavarian forest

A small rock from a glacier in Alberta

A round pebble from a Jamaican beach

A strip of bark from a tree in Wakefield

These are the places touched

The places that have touched

A love letter from a pretty girl

A toy bat-mobile from a friend now lost

A medal given to you by your father

A charm bracelet wor...

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The Dancing Light Of Candles

Flickering shadows cast upon the night

Phantoms leaping on oak panelled walls

Where the final breath of evening gently falls

The white and orange glow of candlelight

Will soothe the nervous child and ease his fright

Or so your aged memory recalls

Flickering

There is no more a sweet magical sight

Than darkness where a defeated demon ...

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Nineteen nighty five
Nominally fourteen;
I was sitting in the sports hall
pen in hand
the desks apart
a teacher I didn’t know
patrolled the aisles
The English paper said ‘write a story
include a river
and an allegory’

The clock at the front clicks
thin hands jerk and tick
I spin my pen
study the air vents above me
there’s a dusty shuttlecock
caught up in the pipework
there’s a br...

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Memories are a funny thing

They can make you laugh but also cry

They are the basis of reliving the past

And for some, staying there

They hold secrets encapsulated in time

They hold feelings hidden from the world

A special place that one can visit as they wish

To hear voices and see smiles

To feel joy and love of those past

Memories, they hold the power to prope...

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this world is a universe

for she is a world 

in herself

at every turn beautiful;

a billion flowers 

in any garden of gloom

would bloom to her smile;

her existence is life

her instance pride

with sadness shied away

the swooned heart

travels miles in a beat; 

every sweet smell 

reminds me of her

the earthy perfume

rain sends forth

the flavored whiff 

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the fragrance of flowers 

gently touched 

by the cemetery breeze

celebrate the silence 

of life being released

the colors of nature

gather around 

that piece of earth

cradling every moment

of time since birth

dark figures fade out

with memories 

replaying in their heads

as the day ends, yet again

death is fed

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I lately watched your video, a Palm Sunday morning show of you and your wife.

Me, your mistress, now ashes of passionate fires, forbidden fires.

Intention of sin in your ideology.

And then this scene of an innoscent couple, the ones who try to pretent what they aren't.

More on:

https://cms.e.jimdo.com/app/cms/preview/index/pageId/2140842394?public=https://magicalwhispers.jimdofree.c...

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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 ...

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It's good when your mind is Active . It gets you through life . Letting you create and survive . Survive most problems . And helps you see through . Feelings or worry's you have . Just helps you get through .The lonely days .The long days . The Remembering . The lonely and also the happy days . Memories for you to Remember  .

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Ah, the magic of night 

when obligations are over, 

another adulting day in the books. 

I rest my weary body, 

set my boggled mind free 

with a little poetry...

Your words await

like a teen with a corsage

to take me to the prom,

where we twist and twirl

under twinkling dollar store stars

and a paper moon.

Happy memories pop up

among technicolor...

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Those dulcet shadows

chased my figure,

dancing. a motif,

that refrained

to end of those pages,

a requiem of endless sobriety

to those euphoric seconds

lost to me.  

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Walking down Lovers Lane on that cool October evening 
We stopped and lingered there
Stood only inches apart
There wasn’t anything more to say
I wasn’t one for small talk anyway 
We both knew what we wanted
I asked that fateful question,
‘What are you waiting for?’
You kissed me
All I can remember is that time stood still
I lost my breath 
I lost feeling in my legs
I crashed to the gro...

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When sun comes against all odds

And the colours of life just pop

Or when the rain falls

It falls and falls

And you wet your lips

With piping hot tea

With warm biscuit

Savour the crumbs

Cosy and safe

In the arms of a jumper

The padding of the sofa,

Like a huge hug

Or when your face aches,

Your stomach vibrates

Because you are fighting to breathe

Through ...

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One by one counting memories:
an old photograph of us at the beach,
a sweater that won’t rid itself of your scent,
books and CDs that you lent,
I’ve packed them away
They won’t see another day

I’ve packed the boxes, 
made the plans,
the rooms are empty
but I am motionless

Is it that familiar look?
Is it the morning glow
that paints itself through the window?
No, it’s the memories ...

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