Tag: Poetry
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A Gentle Remonstration
Afterwards you will see eventually, How you always took the initiative, Always applied the soothing palliative, Always first with the preemptive apology.
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You Lied to Me Love
You lied to me more than once love. You spilled me (when I wasn’t looking) from above, You told me that all and everything, Would centre upon me while unthinking Others would circle round me spinning Me all that I ever wanted without wishing. You lied to me more than once love. You killed me […]
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Poetry is Dead? Again?
Poetry is dead. So? Yet another has spokenAn epitaph, leaving us to pick up the brokenHearts and forgotten thoughts of the living dead,Who scrabble for words after the scar has bled.As for me poetry haunts me almost constantly,Messaged words then phrases that incessantly,Resist my head persist in my heart as if beyondMe as if other […]
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How the World Will (not) End
Woke at midnight to chopper beats Flying above, about, around, Backgrounded by rain in sheets, a wildly churning roaring sound. Outside now we saw the flow, The river has become the street. All humanity in retreat. Shelter in place—for all we know. Close the door, we’re safe for now; TV just home-shopping shows. And while the endless deluge flows, I tell myself that this is how… The world will (not) end quietly.
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forever strong
The next time again I was proven wrong I didn’t flinch or retaliate I wouldn’t bend I’d determined myself this time I’d be strong So began the long hope without any end. Those times I was always pushed away I crouched down, and folded a fended arm Ask her why, again she had nothing to say One step back, nearly always put me safe from harm. As I had learnt once too often never to parry Her blow that was provocation enough This is my burden, what I’m meant to carry I’m durable, a man, I should be tough. My passive resistance by her violent persistence Was in time overcome. Hope can’t be forever strong.
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The Quiet Life
I’d rather take the quiet life please Not the so-called one of perfect ease Full of ever flowing trivialities Bounded by time distracting activities
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Nature in the waiting
In this moment I’m ignoring the clear blue sky. The half-shy nodding smiles of casual passersby, Bracketed between the silver-touched clouds and The soft silken slop of my feet caressed by the sand. In this moment I’m ignoring the far away wave sounds, Sieved through leaves swaying through the mottled light, Colouring me first autumn red goldened during the night, Enveloping me finally in winter’s silvergreen grounds. Meanwhile the tree stretches upward, outward, But underward, its true growth unseen. For these are the moments when nature’s words Are writing me to a place I never would have been.
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The 6th Stage
fill out the form tick each box thorough enter start date including end date too. denial? maybe a dose of anger? me I’m always bargaining anew wallowing in followed sadness although i’ll never receive acceptance that’s true. check all of the above because I’ve got each stage applying all the time. yet amidst the transmitted trauma before I end it must stop with me. so what is my everlasting legacy? what could it be that might be entrusted with me? why amidst the constant taste of acidic brine I slowly occasionally sup more often now from love’s everlasting wine.
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Tapestry Maker
I want to hear the tapestry that is your conversation I want to weave quietly the threads between your words I want to sew together the phrases spoken I want to discern the thoughts you’ve left unspoken. Even if I never draw closer to that which you would’ve rather have left broken.
Andrew James Whalan 