Poetry Blogs (2012, home)
I hold this flower
In my hand.
Yellow and perfect.
Like European star.
Like my heart
Is bound to this place.
My ear used to different languages,
My nose used to all these smells,
Smells of freedom.
In a continent of so many colours,
And beautiful memories.
I keep this flower alive
As long as I can.
I know it will die
Like the freedom
That leaves us.
Monday 16th March 2020 10:37 pm
where orange cumulonimbi are mirrored in stagnant rivers
where sleepy eyes blur swaying trees into dancing green monoliths
where the distant sound of crickets serenades the kangaroo’s carcass
where the salty coastal air dissolves onto arid tongues
where mother desert’s mounds hide her faithful servants
where dying gum trees groan as they accept the wind’s embrace
where nuggets of...
Tuesday 17th December 2019 11:03 am
How do I love?
Wondered the struggling eyes,
As sun's rays reached the pale face,
Into another morning of inquiry,
Whether to carry on or linger,
From, perhaps, a hope for two souls,
That had no home,
Looking and searching,
For, if haven was impossible,
At least a shelter to thrive on,
But to only provide what it needs,
One must let go,
For hope to live...
Sunday 25th August 2019 5:43 am
Is that our home, there, where we hang our hats?
There, where we boil our eggs and stroke the cat?
Knowing each cranny of our ingle nook
We turn the pages of our well thumbed book.
Home, sweet home!, yet, there is still an unease.
Cat-like it comes, our peace to paw and tease.
Close the castle door! Put the kettle on!
This is my chez-moi!, - for, how ever long?
We stand at...
Sunday 12th May 2019 8:12 pm
The trees still sentinel stood
their green leaves whispering
rustling gently in the wood
in the same soft breeze
and I know some summer birds
sang in their canopy
a requiem without words
'neath the same blue sky
that through every passing year
quietly watched over me
safe within Ceredig's sphere
It has been too long a time
since our firs...
Tuesday 9th April 2019 2:20 pm
I am transported by
a narrow orange moon
and a million stars
the still cool air
the silence of the yard
I am welcomed by
a single ghostly owl swoop
over the sheep fields
the creak of my gate
the scratch of my key on the lock
the silent click...
Sunday 18th November 2018 12:23 pm
I’m ordinary and that’s ok
Extraordinary is made of
A million ordinaries anyway
I can feel Magnolia
From her glossy dark leaves
It’s early afternoon
Rays warm my left shoulder
My car window lets just enough in
The faint rattle in my back seat
Plays a bridge
To the melody of my AC
The turns of my car, so familiar
Thursday 25th October 2018 1:51 am
Letters in Wartime
Words on paper
Telling the story of a soldier
Or airman or sailor
Letters from the front
To a sweetheart
First read by the censor
Telling of longing to see you
And hardship in battle
Seen thru with determination
And a love of country
Fighting for them
The loved ones
Far from where
He is stationed
Saying about his mates
Monday 15th October 2018 2:13 pm
Home is where the heart is
but where is the heart
It lies in wonder and glory
Or is it in the fame of society
I can't seem to find home
Is it in the light rays of hope
or in shallow waters of pain
A house never feels like home
or is it just the lonely heart speaking
I can't seem to find heart
for since the beginning
into two part
So maybe i'll keep looking
Monday 2nd July 2018 1:57 pm
When I have gone
what waits this room
with its vacuum
where I sat?
my chair sits sightless
musing at my absence
midst space bereft
my music play on?
After I have left
ask my empty bed
all sheeted void
about my dreams
my mattress dent
minding my long night wraiths
maintain my ...
Wednesday 20th June 2018 4:39 pm
I finally figured it out
How to get up there pre-death.
I crawled my way up to you
Without leaving my own bed.
I tried to break you out
But they wouldn't let you leave.
I tried to break you out
To bring you home with me.
I got kicked out of heaven
No they won't let me back.
They said if I ever tried again
To prepare myself for attack.
I'll go back everyday
If I had the slightest cha...
Monday 28th May 2018 7:52 pm
Sunset Over Lupset (August 1968)
Lupset sunsets smelled of bonfires,
undercut with new mown grass,
wild mint by the kitchen window,
treasures in the strawberry patch.
Father sat with pint of shandy,
The mower cooling in the shade,
the rake stowed by the garden shed,
the kids with sparkling lemonade.
Summer sun dips on the estate
dragging shadows from th...
Friday 11th May 2018 5:13 pm
It was literally th eworst
and my sister says her life is cursed..
The first day we lived their was crap
it certainly felt like a trap
The tennants where junkies and thugs
who tried to sell us their drugs
it started with brian scott
who clearly lied alot
he showed up late
he said it was great
and i was left in a state
The plumbing was terribly bad
The place i...
Monday 12th February 2018 12:43 pm
Grey bin days
Loose-fitting metal lids
Carried back- breakingly
To the monstrous wagon
Limping it’s way
Around the close
Like a club-footed relic
Behind the chipped
Leaded glass of number thirteen
A terrible gargoylian face
Pressed up close
Mrs Ashall has seen a football fly over her neat ...
Tuesday 23rd January 2018 8:00 pm
Keep finding bits and pieces of
Myself strewn across my mind
Only to be blown away again
And what little pieces I have left
Shake and shiver in fear.
Knowing the horizon has better days
I strive onward, searching
There will always be a place
Not a hole, but a safe space
In my heart
For you to rest your head awhile
And know that I will always love you.
Monday 20th November 2017 8:08 pm
What is that glint
as the sod breaks and crumbles:
a sparkling hint
as I dig the dusty summer soil?
This old garden has gained lost treasures
of man, woman and child for centuries -
What lies uncovered?
Teased from the clod
I find a tiny glass heart and this ...
Sunday 15th October 2017 10:26 am
How does a girl become a woman?
The first time her royal blue skirt
Was stained with drops of blood
Tainted childhood's innocence
Of fertility's awakening.
Rules had chained her feet from crossing
The bridge towards a boy playing
His piece in a saxophone
Lullabies of attraction
A petty love from the ashes of lust.
Chains rang as she heavily walked
Up the stairs of her fantasies
Sunday 10th September 2017 3:33 pm
Home is in a lot of places
In a the bottom of a coffee cup, inhaling and looking up to see your friends beautiful smile because you made a funny face.
In a national park breathing the crisp air, the utter contentment of being in a place that is only yourself and the earth, with a thousand days before and after you.
Dancing in the waves, the ocean so a part of your life that your very vein...
Saturday 10th June 2017 12:06 am
In 'our land',
which retains its leafiness,
despite how unseasonably
a fine few are fallen.
Just beneath fury's fierce flame;
our city's many bridges
a metaphor for so much more
defiantly stand still.
I pray today, it's not just me
who hears them screaming silently
'To join together is our fate
we will not hate, we will not hate.'
Sunday 4th June 2017 9:14 pm
I am made of Liverpool which means it all
Proud and mischievous born for fun
It's in our blood to want for more
More of everything to stir our souls
We're all together when the world crowds in
Ever faithful to the passions that stir
Red for ever on a golden cause
Blues together from across the park
Fridays, Saturdays music and dance
Laughter, humour on long walks home...
Saturday 6th May 2017 6:35 pm
Now the lights are coming on
pink and orange, white and blue
from this distance they seem to melt into an aura
a haze hung above this haunted city
A clock tower looms over the rails
passing through this place I've never stopped here
I know nothing about how it moves or swells or stalls
but the lights all blanket it so heavenly
I think to myself, I'd like to return someday
Always, I fi...
Sunday 26th March 2017 2:34 am
This poem is for all those still searching for home.
Sailing an Inland Sea
A stark white galley, sail aloft,
Knifes liquid mirrors, softly heaving,
Its pattering stem a story-teller
For fishers caught
On idle frontiers, poised
Between vaults of washed cerulean.
Its Master sighs to distant shores, yearning
For Phoenicia's Thalassa; a place of purple -...
Tuesday 24th January 2017 1:08 am
Christmas can be many things to many people & its most feared aspect is probably the way
it can emphasise loneliness or want. My message is "be positive" & grateful for what you
have, whether it be the company of family, friends or just your own. God Bless Us All!
I'm meeting the brother this Saturday
When he arrives at Water...
Thursday 19th December 2013 4:03 pm
Baby girl is home
Mom and dad so very proud
Sweet little baby
Wednesday 9th January 2013 9:35 pm
eidolic dread horses
have scarred your slumber
and even your furniture
has silent, open mouthed, nightmares
over the too soon dead school friends
who never ended their crossings
where there she stoops in shroud
ghastly knelt as in prayer
and you can’t see through the tricks
of light that scream “she is there”
your crumpling chest boiling
as the bones...
Tuesday 21st August 2012 12:24 am
Old factory was due to be knocked down and turned into rubble, recycle the materials and use the land again. A new start? Yet this building is structurally fine, a few broken windows and missing tiles, the idea of demolition is okay but you lose the heritage and a piece of history. Is that a good thing? How about doing it up and converting it to flats?
Keeping the building...
Friday 2nd March 2012 11:58 pm
Just audio at the moment!
Monday 20th February 2012 12:14 am
Find more posts here: http://haydenwritesthings.wordpress.com/
The Falling Down
The knives and forks
are crossed on the plates
in the kitchen,
two used cups sit
quietly on the coffee table
by the sofa,
the pots and pans
we used last night swim
in a pool of cold water.
the rain lashes
at the windows,
and outside the birch
tree swings w...
Wednesday 4th January 2012 4:18 am
New poem! Also, if you want to read more things (maybe less poetry orientated - reviews etc) then go to my blog, here: http://haydenwritesthings.wordpress.com/
He takes actions,
holds them close to his
chest, feeling their weight
resting against his rib cage.
And the glasses come out
upside down, and sometimes
he rubs the inside with his
fingers to see if...
Friday 11th November 2011 1:13 am
This is our final destination:
No Man's Land terminal,
terminating at the end of the lane Cain paved.
This is place is an airport slowly murdering us with boredom
with nothing but dim, echoed muzak
and our haggard,
baggy-eyed reflection in shop windows for company.
This is where we roam:
for anything to hunt and gather
on these barren litter-beaten st...
Monday 9th May 2011 6:10 pm
On National Poetry Day Jo Bell tasked me to write a poem about being on a train and travelling from London to Manchester and *not* being able to go to poetry events. I'd just done my first day at the Barbican and was commuting back home. This is what came out.
Across England there are homes.
In pubs and streets and library waiting
Places I could turn up, call my home
Monday 11th October 2010 9:55 am
I grew up in a country of
fish & chips
& 9 to 5.
With jet back hair and dark skin
I stood out sorely at school,
in the street.
I longed to visit that place, elsewhere,
Which my parents always spoke of.
The place where I would fit in.
Saturday 26th June 2010 2:16 pm