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Frayed blanket end

Look left, look right
look up and down
this world is yours to grasp
But how, you ask, can tiny fingers cage this winding land?
Skeins of yarn that track behind
this tattered blanket's end
Scurl and furl, the webs of fate
knit in seeming whim
A spiders web, intricate order
cast in gossamer strands
To trap and tremble sweet memories,
the prey this spider hunts
No different are these imag...

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existentialmetaphorphilosophical

They Did Not Ask

At first, they did not ask,

Because they thought

I could not speak.

I had birthday parties

Just like you, but

Something was missing.

I continued to chant

That I was not an orphan,

But it was no use.

Again, they did not ask,

Because they felt guilty

And it was too late.

I kept switching trains.

I felt half-blind,

Sometimes half-deaf.

I learned to smile

...

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Childhood memoriesgrowing upidentityphilosophical

When your soul returns to Ras Dashen

When your soul returns to Ras Dashen many years from now,

Time will stop to acknowledge your final descent.

Time will give no pardon.  Time will take no vow.

As a child again, you will walk through the land.

At the mountain foot olive trees are the same;

They were guarding your peace from below and above.

When the world seemed unfair – this is where you came,

This is where you...

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immigrationlifedeathphilosophicalEthiopia

The time is crawling

The time is crawling

On this slippery Friday afternoon.

My body is trapped

In an hourglass room.

My poor empty body

Can no longer feel the pain.

There is a dry flower

In the corner.

I have been staring at it

For the past hour.

Does it crave love

That I can no longer give?

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philosophicalmetaphysicalsentimental

Cradle yourself

Cradle yourself,

Weep like a child

In the face of eternity.

What sins are you carrying

In your cow bag?

Take them out

One by one.

Place them on this stone

In the bright sun

So I can examine them closer.

“They will dry out,” I protest.

I laugh, “What’s the worry?

Are you trying to keep them forever?”

I pull back and hide

The bag behind my back.

“I am not...

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philosophicalmetaphysical poetry

At the time of no poetry

At the time of no poetry,

The silence weighs heavily

And sinks to the bottom

Of the spring like a stone.

At the time of no poetry,

The wind has stopped blowing,

And the landscape looks lifeless,

Draped in darkness.

At the time of no poetry,

My steps leave no footprint,

My silhouette is a shadow

Shivering from the cold.

At the time of no poetry,

I am alone and...

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poetryphilosophical

RAINDROP

RAINDROP

heat of
august
builds
thunderous
enveloped
dust
vaporous
delicate
exist
in the
mist
water
gauge
to measure
pain
only
warmth
in the i
of the storm
cloud
burst
desperate
thirst
dehydrate
in the
precipitate
evaporate
like damp
on pave
pouring
rain
washed away
stain
disintegrate
tissue paper
in a drain
come and
go
like a
lightning bolt
make a
splash
...

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philosophical

FEAR

FEAR

what is fear
false evidence
appearing real
hard not to react
to things we feel
so much
to fear
things we can't see
swear we hear
things far away
and very near
since start
of time
fear's tricked
eyes and minds
didn't know
what something was
labelled it
monstrous
what's that shadow
is someone there
thought i saw a figure
probably the glare
under the bed
something move...

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philosophical

Conservation

 Conservation

 

 

          Atmospheric pressure above the

Marsh-mellow clouds make spectacular wishes

Of the universe – and for a moment,

If we grab the tail and never let go,

We’d have chance upon escape.

 

     We could snatch it,

Cling on – our dear life and play

Amongst the stars,

We could fly like fantasy

The greats; Capricorn, Virgo, Le...

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philosophical

Facades feat. Noetic-fret

I am not by any stretch of the imagination riding on the backs of the great Mr Glass (or others). I am just a disabled ex soldier who is expressing through the medium of poetry, experiences and thoughts of my disturbed life and mind. Nevertheless, if Phillip Glass wishes me to take this off the site then I will. I am amateur at this and only wish to say I am a big fan of Mister Glass's work, an...

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philosophical

Pawn of Insignificance

 Pawn of Insignificance

 

What has been made is not what I knew,

What’s left is the taste of bitter fruit and

No-one seems to understand the bereavement

Of bright shore of optimism,

            I’m at sea and clouds

Are dark, hide light as sleeping;

The tentacles of doubt drag unconsciously

My torso from the beach.

 

            Slumber!

Where com...

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philosophical

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