Theres things we need to talk about...

this collection is of poems written between 2005 and 2007 on a variety of subject...hope you find them interesting

Comments

Hi - just read Tree - which i think is beautiful - is that angles or angels? Enjoy your poetry, thank you xxldx

 

thanks little ditty...sorry its taken so long for me to get back to you ive been not too well....and yes your right its supposed to be angels..i got the inspiration for the last line from a poem i read by....

 

Lifes a bowl of pizza's

I saw him still. I mean, rude of me, but I stared at him. With dishevelled look And greasy black hair. On the stairs Of the new pizzeria. Shaking like a leaf in this autumn evening.

A I D S

My cells crumble Imprisonment distorts my smile Mum hands me a tissue To wipe the cold from my eyes My belt drawn tight Constricts a body covered in lies enemies kept closely

A promise for no one you know.

There was once a time when I thought I knew you Before all this mess and meaningless waste Before you slammed the phone down for the last time

R.I.P

There’s a certain joy, a satisfaction In words text, nothing spoken. A rhythm a flow even pofanity Has place and meaning…a glow Between the lines the harshness

The way to write a best seller.

I sat ready to write a best seller but the words were impotent Not forth coming, the pint glass looked at me half empty And spoke to my pallet for just on more gulp.

Smoke and mirrors

Your story is distorted Like the face I see in the cracked mirror In the bathroom; The tales you told Where only a smoke screen To cover up your guilt: I dabbed my beetroot eye

The Prowler

Like a caged prize fighter I watch him prowl Oblivious to my eyes Marking his every step Cross waste land void of green trees His paws curl like a boxer’s glove,

holocaust

This poem is about the hideousness of the Jewish holocaust from the view of a Christian.

The difference in me

Do you know what I am? Im a schizeophrenic elementary guest.

Tree

You are chained securely, to the mother of your birth by history Wrapped in molten brown skin Battered senseless by opposing forces At times your finger prints leave indelible marks

The Journey

I’m finding life Finally I’m finding it After years of loss In a sea of confusion And lonesome wonderings I’m finding life Actually it’s been there All the time

The test

Concentrate your mind Point your thoughts to higher things Pure like volcanic mountain springs Sieved threw years of sedimentary rock Stand firm, steady your course

Prayer of thanks

Last year I thought I would drown Swallowed up by rumour and suspicion and lies Afraid that I would lose friends I never had And be rejected by a family who never cared

Face 2 Face

When you look into my face, what do you see? Do you see age or is it beauty? When you look into my face, what do you see? Do you see a mess or someone neat and tidy?

suggestions and answers

The Plan In the passage of time I lay claim to what I’ve found In Time you’ll see That you too can be set free From cares of life, gaining victory In time you’ll see

The compromised earth

Mother earth has her history bound up in a promise A promise which is laced with the elixir of life A promise of hope for the future Where now decay resides beneath the setting sun

Untitled

I behold the blank page eying me From its right angled corners Tunnelling my vision into its Bare expressionlessness Perfect lines are on its surface Begging to be intruded by

wasted years.

There was once a time when I thought I knew you Before all this mess and meaningless waste Before you slammed the phone down for the last time

WHITE ORCHID FIELDS.

Why rests your home amongst dead leaves of orchids In search of sustenance from rain Green fields which once stood in palatial residences Laid...

The world is such a beautiful place

I really must get some sleep my eye lids closing like squeezed out half lemons Burning from the noxious fumes and swirls of the last cigarette before...

a peaceful retreat

The sun glows bright in the cloudless sky The ambience is peaceful like the heavens above Birds sing in choruses, the voice of angels Protecting the...

assisted suicide

Arthur likes to sleep sometimes Eyes wide open in the middle of the day He’s transfixed on a spot on the wall His cell phone vibrates, no voice mail...

a story to tell

Who will for told This waking hour Where foot has tread Where man has power Where life has breath Each every hour Who will for told Who will for told...