Old. Home. Dry. (Poem of mine)

And those old eyes
I still saw them
spreading with
the age in her face
And every time she walked
I saw hurt in her bones.
And I don’t know how many
Nights I cried
Thinking of life
Without her
And loneliness
Clenched
Like a fist of self pity
And my heart beat so fast
When I stopped breathing
I felt relief
Close,
And sweet
As a sheet.
I never saw her drink again
Even when wine flowed like fountains
And parties flooded around her.
I will always write poetry
For you.
I hold your hands
And veins flow,
Like shallow rivers.
I sink like a stone
in the water
Forever seems like tomorrow
In this grasp of sunlight.

A garden of remembrance (poem of mine)

A garden in the darkness,

And the night insects

Skulk in the grass,

The whitest meadow,

Moon drenched

Crystalline.

And I

Shadowed in the crevice,

I do not know this place.

Time brews

An empty ticking

Sensation

And the quiet spider

Trembles in its web

I feel

This tremor,

A cascade

Through my marrow

And beneath

An upwards surge.

Eyes go amiss.

Then again

Another darkness

Pours over me

I pray to feel it resting

I know when it recedes,

It only sleeps at my feet.

Red Admiral (poem of mine)

Saturday
On the decking
A mug
And a table
And a chair
And trousers
Soaked in last night’s rain;
I thought of butterflies.
Ever since you said
That Uncle Freddie
Told her he was coming back as one,
We know it as a sign,
Was this, one of those
That you laced into my thoughts?
Or was it just the rain
And a promise of sun,
A shift of nature,
Unconnected.
But those brazen wings
In that punch to the face red,
I had to take a pause,
Within my pause,
And notice your colour,
Amongst the fading greens.
I know when a day is dark,
And it is significant,
You will come along.
I don’t know who you are,
But here’s hoping,
You know me.
I say hello, silently,
Smile
Into my coffee.