Hi I'm Pat, I have written a strange kind of poetry since 9 years of age. I remember writing a Poem at 11 years old at secondary school about a lonely scarecrow it was average I suppose, however my teachers thought it was good and made me read it out to the whole school in assembly, I remember looking at my proud sisters face, and smiles from all the teachers, I also remember every single child taking the Royal mick out of me whilst I was reading and the beatings that followed after, I still stay close to adversity now!, which makes me difficult to deal with sometimes but I have to say what I feel!. I stopped writing when young, I only started again when I reached 50, 6 years ago. I write not to be recognised I write because I am a very sensitive person that becomes moved when I read anything that is sad or see people gaining an advantage over another for unscrupulous reasons, I feel a real moral justice and get hurt deeply by atrocity, the reason I know this world is not for me sometimes. I question everything and have to write to release these feelings. I hope you enjoy reading, maybe what you read will help you in some way, maybe not. Thanks Pat
A WALK IN THE WOODS It was a fleeting moment when I first saw you, confident in life though I thought I knew Memories made with a fleeting wind time retracts the years do rescind fortune bursts open a freedom begins A walk in the woods taught me how to relax, to be calm when I am at a crossroad with a choice somewhat shallow, enjoy the peace and quiet of the rain drenched meadow darkened ghosts trail the way of my will, holding me back to pass my shadow still talons tear at my shoulder with the light of the moonlit shrill An eruption has begun run and hide from the ashes or stay behind to suffer the lashes, burnt from an ambush of moltened rock fire, lay down a life for a wanton desire forgive my confusion, where from I came? It is not important to the wicked seed It's always the bloody same for the Devils need to feed on a tattered remain, the Devils need to feed is what keeps them all sane. SAVIOUR Deeper and deeper the darkness of night Exhale or consume from a shimmering sight Clouds caressingly cover from eyes that may see things that are hidden from the blindness in me. Night spirits twinkle when the earth goes to sleep Shepherds lay awake tendering their sheep Born out of holiness given their sight gathering their souls way into the night Forgiveness a joy received with delight Crushing a demon removing their flight Dare not to look at or linger round long An angels desire is accomplished and strong Fortunately brave with god at your side Sword and the shield your heavenly bride The crucified jesus stamping his place ruling the earth with a promise of grace. Unfortunately for me I was born on a Friday Soldiers arrived, they took them away, no one knew why they could not stay, they came with lorries and bundled them on, asking for Country, Town, Date, then they were gone first my friends, then my family my brother, my mother and my sister Emily gaping holes in community, soldiers with guns, masks, brutal slavery they were there, now they are gone, gone away from me I spoke to people left, one's left bereft trying to find a cause for this sin trying to find out why?, this state were in but none knew why, or where they were no one knew why, except they forced their way in. I gathered reasons by questioning few, then many English, Polish, French, Indians and those from Germany I could not find a Reason why? but it wasn't ugliness I searched around, it could not be the wealthy or the poor it wasn't what clothes were in their drawer it wasn't race by the look in their face I knew the population had grown, the evidence had shown No jobs, no money, food was scarce people fighting for a place to live some had taken to sharing most were living in the benches or vents in the open park and living in tents After much research, blown away and bemused there were no reasons that I could unearth except the date of their birth besides one born on a Sunday, Tuesday, Friday too there were none left, not even you Monday had gone, Wednesday disappeared, Thursday none Saturday vanished like the setting of a sun then as if an explosion in my brain it was somewhat crazy completely insane those in charge had worked a plan, drafted an army then it began a birthright lottery to sort it out, not ageist or racist or a wealthy plan born on a day they did not choose' would be taken away, gassed or shot then burnt in may a great big pyre could be smelt, dust of bodies no longer felt, falling down as if it were snow, putting on a great big show Jews were blamed for undermining wealth In Nazi Germany, they were caught by stealth yet this is a different state of mind, no one to blame, just a state unkind They grew in power and had a plan, to take away the heart of every man those that were left would beg for life, those were left had no wife slavery and power will be their ways bowing down to the end of their days. Memories I will remember everything there is to remember all the little things that mean so much then one unimportant day I will forget! probably without even knowing that this day is the saddest day of my life
All poems are copyright of the originating author. Permission must be obtained before using or performing others' poems.
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Sat 30th Jan 2016 09:56
Really pleased you enjoyed my little tale.
It is based on a happening which occurred on the A66, whilst returning to Scotland (temporary home)
Hopefully good memories for you
Tue 29th Dec 2015 09:05
Hey Patricio thanks for reading my poems & posting comments
Tue 17th Nov 2015 16:01
Thank you for your lovely note on Budgetary Democide :)
Tue 17th Nov 2015 12:51
Cheers Patricio. Interesting take P, interesting. Tommy
Tue 17th Nov 2015 04:27
Thank you for your kind comments on Nobody Cane. It was very very hard for me to post it. I felt I was exposing my inner most self so had to take it down.
I am so sorry to hear about your step father. Not easy dealing with things like that, is it!
Tue 3rd Nov 2015 19:04
Patricio, many thanks for your comments on Cur. You may have been on the right track there, but then again? Regards, Graham.
Ged the Poet
Tue 3rd Nov 2015 15:27
Thank you for your very kind comments on 'The Place Where Only Dead Men Sleep' and 'Truncheon for Luncheon'. Very much appreciated Pat.
I like your biography, the world is for you, and you have a
great body of work.
"It is not important to the wicked seed It's always the bloody same
for the Devils need to feed on a tattered remain, the Devils need to feed is what keeps them all sane"
So very true.
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