Poetry

A chain is only as strong as its weakest link

There was a lock around my heart,

chains dragging behind me, longer than Jacob Marley’s.

I thought I’d have them forever,

but it turned out that words are a great corrosive,

eating into the toughest metals.

They didn’t come from me, I was too much

on the inside, struck dumb by expectations and resigned attitudes.

They came from you, from a single offer you made

of trying to help me solve a puzzle.

Neither of us realised the puzzle

was ourselves.

Poetry

Keep sake

My heart is a trinket box

previously filled with costume jewellery

lovely in its own way

but I have sensitive skin

and you know how metals react with sensitive skin

over time.

 

I wore it often

thinking that I always would

claiming the style matched my own

even on days it turned my skin green

or threw up a rash.

 

It wasn’t until after a decade had passed

that it occurred to me I’d been avoiding

the obvious truth.

No matter how much I adored it

it was not a true match.

We weren’t compatible

in the way I thought

and gradually it had spilt out of my heart-box

leaving me empty.

 

Empty

enough to be filled

with something truly precious.

Not a trinket

not a necklace

not another box.

 

A living beating pulsing heart.

My own.

Poetry

Mind Song

We float around in our little heads,

conjuring images from things long said

and if the circuit board

should ever be damaged

wiping our memories

both sweet and savage,

we know that time often heals

with due care, sensible practices and steady meals.

Even if we’re unsure what we’re seeking

we can still approach the stars with proper greeting.

Poetry

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.

 

Poetry

Off Beat

‘Did someone pull you by the hand?’

you ask.

 

‘No,’ I answer. ‘My heart discovered

it was beating a different rhythm

to the one it thought it beat.

 

It was shocked, angry at itself

and guilty when it discovered that no matter how hard it tried,

it couldn’t find the melody it’d lost.

 

The new one was too strong,

too wild, too free and

too accepting of itself.’

 

‘And of the heart

whose rhythm it once matched?’

 

‘It beats still, sound and capable,

ready to find another

to fall into sync with.

 

Mild and honest, it will always

be true to its owner.’

Poetry

Bliss

Your eyes will tell me all I need to know;

they can ask the greatest question,

and give the most honest answer.

 

One concept merging with another,

taking the rough ore of the mind and smelting it

into a pure resonance of the feeling inside.

 

Then everyone else appears.

Cosmic balance has been thrown asunder — they casually waltz into this space,

shattering, roaring like an ocean, waves crashing hard.

Up goes your invisible barrier, concealing

my best friend.

 

But I remember

falling asleep to your heartbeat

pulsing against my ear.

 

I know you’ll always let me in.

You gave me a key after all.

And as our fingers link, those emotions you keep contained

can finally be set free.

 

Like you’ve done for me,

I’ll squeeze the bad thoughts away

so that you can be cheerful again.