Self-Examination

You never know what you’ll find when you look inside.

Pull out your innards,

find the glow left behind by faulty wires

and burnt out circuit boards

replaced so many times you can no longer remember

what the original was like.

There may be a spark. A glint.

A cog

needing only slight encouragement

to fit back into the mechanism

and start time again.

 

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The Thirsty Traveller

Once, I heard the trickle of a long forgotten stream

As I strolled along taking in the syrup of the noonday sun’s gleam.

My throat was dry, and so I stopped

To take a sip with cupped hands,

Realising too late that I’d been caught in black quicksand.

 

What fool was I

To have ventured without a careful glance?

Had I thought I was fair of fortune enough

To gamble with chance?

 

Some might now expect me to say I was saved

But sadly I must inform you that for me, a different end was paved.

Though my body soon disappeared underground

I now hover above the water

Guarding forever against any fools willing to clown around.

Silken

A strand shines white,

a glimmer on the darkened street.

The moonlight has touched it,

but its fellows remain that rich brown

hanging down to your shoulders.

Each one a piece of your thoughts,

a ribbon tied fast to the building blocks

that make you.

Old strands gift their being to others,

and then leave.

Fresh beginnings grow in their stead.

Kip

When I see your face,

jaw slack and eyes closed,

beyond the beat of this moment

in a dimension all of your own,

I relax in the knowledge that

despite the chaos of eggshell mornings

and clay evenings,

you’re finally getting some rest.

What’s in its pocketses?

There’s a dream in my pocket,

folded up tight

so it cannot leak out into the world

and disperse

into society’s lure.

 

There’s a dream in my pocket,

a wish, if you like,

wonderful and strong, and quite possibly bold

against the grey,

ready to mature.

Writer’s pursuit

Where do writers get their ideas from?

All the world wants to know!

Do they sneak off to times gone

while we’re sleeping

and watch the goings on as a show?

 

Do they skip back and forth,

bartering in many different tongues?

Do they bundle old tales and morph them

into diverse, interlocking shapes

and hope the originals won’t see them hung?

 

Perhaps they come in dreams

drifting down rivers and across channels.

Do they filter onto pages in reams,

spider-fast ink overtaking the pores,

to at last become a slab of legible panels?

Round about

The time we spend breaking things down,

Analysing until there’s nothing left to be found.

What’s it all for? What does it mean?

Simply a way to keep the slate wiped clean?

Or is it an impulse to tear each precious thing away,

To keep telling ourselves there’s no possible way?

I think, no matter the reason given,

We should look to the future for all that is hidden

And embrace the changes as they appear

Even when your limit is near

Because beyond that, a gem will shine:

A warm heart waiting for you this whole time.

End of day

Evening comes – no, midnight –

and the cogs are finally coloured to a shine,

placed inside the casing of my heart

as the rest of my body, weary

from the day’s high, erratic strings

winds down into standby mode.

 

Tick, whirr, beat.

Tick. Whirr. Beat.

Tick… whirr… beat…

Crooked House

It’s been an upside down,

twisting, curving, swirling, turning path

to this point.

Trails of thought, even serious

undoubtedly end in laughs

between us both.

We talk about everything and yet nothing,

say nothing and yet everything.

Our conversation can be in a look

or typed in a note,

and our peace

can be in a thousand words

one after the other.

 

Sugar Coated

Behind that sweet exterior,

painted, crafted, structured:

a persona loud and clear.

 

I can see you.

See how your eyes do not reflect your

bright-red grin,

see how your long sleeves lift

to reveal silver filigree

around your wrists.

 

But whenever anyone asks

how you are,

you tell them you couldn’t be more fulfilled.

Everyone’s social media blares out their happiness –

so you have to keep up,

don’t you?