Poetry Blog by Tom (Longing)

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Anatomy of Longing

Cutting to the heart of all this longing
is it the vicious tongue you wag at me
or the perpetual mystery hanging from your actions
the contradictions of your possible state of mind

I see the hurt, I feel the pain you carry
and sense the urge to be desired by men
the flirt of all you do rings loudly before you
and against my better judgement
I can’t help but come swimming back to your sho...

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Does this trip start in you
or spring somewhere in me
there is an urgency of need
I can't seem to abandon

Fingers on the button
clawing at your door, heart beating
will you answer all this longing
let me cross the line, trespassing

Calling by, I'm calling by
that ancient question in my eye
and you can tell, you can smell
that I've been drinking 
but you know me
you know me
you kn...

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Read You Once More

I have been having these moments
waiting for trains
pouring kettles
folding sheets
opening a window

I have been having these little moments
flicking through old magazines
in the off-license
glancing up at windows
looking out across the city

When the magnitude of your potential
when all the things you said to me
when the poetry you quietly dedicated
when the soft touch of your deft...

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longingpoetrythe past

Ghosts On The Platform

As the rain falls in the early evening
treading the yellow line, solemnly waiting
a little drunk, a little lonely
all too aware of where I’m not going
haunted by the ghosts littering this platform…

As she draws him in so close to her
he dips his head to accept those smiling lips
begging, O!, they’re beating to be kissed
while phantom hands journey all across her body
curves pushed tight...

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Singing Along To All Those Torch Songs

The voices of heartbreak 
they vibrate through the car
the voices of soul-ache
pour like water into this space

Next to that flawed, trembling voice
I lay my own
to that cracked and warbling voice
I add my own

That’s me
singing along
that’s me
singing along
to all those torch songs

The starkness of stripped, blunt words
fills the hollow part of all I see
the devastation of stri...

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longingSelf-awarenesssinging songs

I'm Not Here

Conversations float like dandelion seeds
drifting on some tumble-weed breeze
the words are soft and out of focus
bouncing quietly off these walls

Invisible vibrations pass unnoticed
no effect, no eye turned, no ear piqued
was that my name, something I should recognise
or just another wave in the sea of endless ambience

I’m not here
I’m not here at all

I’m back at that table
our le...

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