Tag Archives: memory

4/ 30 A blues for Ruby

Mood Indigo
Book of blue notes turned encyclopaedia
A Glasgow kiss feels easier to bear
The pain of you not being here

Blue notes.
Melody sharper than citrus tipped arrows
I look to the sun and find you in the shadows
In your sleep, you remain hallowed

Some say I’m sentimental like a sudden burst of thirst for your first
Sometimes for the best, the worst comes to worst.
Can’t blame the doctors, won’t blame the nurse.
In the song of my life, you were a producer with a great featured verse.

My mood… indigo, yet finding new greens
Your principles were priceless.
Hope to see you in my rest
Reunited, under the supreme

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Filed under 30 day challenge, Random Poetics

5 day poetry Challenge Day 2: Halogen

If vision is a picture of the future that produces passion, why not be a part of the camera?.

Like taking a stranger’s picture in low light, your flash can be a highlight or a lifetime acquaintance..

A memory of a moment that changes the album because it released with its capture.

An aperture for insight like a ramp to a mountain giving the taker a higher definition.

Are we open to being shutters? Quicker than Usain Bolt off the blocks

Sometimes our heads seem so big yet we’re quick to chop

When trouble comes our gift shop has the quickest shutter speed

We forget that we’ve got to be light to allow light to be

Being light there are days when we have dark nights of the soul

Sometimes we darken ourselves,

(And) Although our black hole can be vacuum packed with anarchy

Being light isn’t about being right, it’s doing right

It’s not an act, performance or blind conformance

You can be the torch that’s picked up in the time of a power cut.

A sense of direction for a friend or foe down on luck

Yet we are more than street lights

As sure as your light is not your light and life is not a bed of roses

Why burn for exposure when your wick, stand or circuitry may expose you

Are we too busy posing in the spotlight to realise this is our space to be a Mars Rover?

Seek light knowing good is to take flight,

A window to the soul might need a skylight

You can help a lightweight lift heaviness with a candlelight

Who doesn’t like being around a light

What we feed on can stop us being light headed

We might be matched up to burn so someone can say they found a light

Are you light headed

I write not as a head light but as a highlighter

Seeking to bring light to those think they’re light proof

Reading to make richer bigger pictures

In truth

I just want to play my part and make the load light

Seasons determine if I’m to be a floodlight or a flashlight

With the time I’ve left I know I’ll be alright

So that when mine goes out they can cover me with Matthew 5 14 and 16 to say

I was light

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Filed under Just Living

Dovedale (52/39)

Amidst the clapping trees and booming hills
She stood

Frozen like taxes until her interest rate rose
Trying to catch the note of the strumming stream

As the whispering wind started rumours
She believed
She’d fall
Pregnant with fear
Her comfort zone was born

Bairns skipping over stepping stones
Each step changing tones
By this river I have known
She stood

Humming the note of the strumming stream
Thawing out thoughts of why

This filly affiliated with feeling afraid
Her feelings were frayed yet
She walked over water like cobbled stones were her disciples

Stepping out like her faith says
Converting the unbeliever inside her
Drowned in joy, I was

We sang the song of stepping stones in harmony
For admist the clapping trees, above the roaring hills
She soared

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Filed under 52 Week Challenge, Random Poetics

Bearwood Pick Nick (52/8)

bearwood high st

Every Saturday morning when Des Lynam’s moustache was doing it’s final stretches during the weather just before Grandstand we found ourselves…

In sniffing distance of the Kings Head
Blunt’s shoes? you’d never wear them unless you smoked, were barely out of the cot or closing in on retirement.
Where cash machines are places of worship and the church on the corner is a convenience store outliving us all.
As chips a shade of oompah loompah that fish pouting glamour pusses would bathe in are trophy dinners.
If traversing that red and grey bricked hill to purchase 105 of the 5-a-day was deemed a winner.
I’d grow up fruitless, a damned sinner
See once raiding freezer heaven was finished….we’d head there……
To the land of the A-Team branded Cornflakes, peaches and rice.
Where stealth entry to this economically viable leviathan was vital.
Where purchases were disguised in Safeway’s and Tesco bags to avoid being seen as cheap.
There’s nothing special about this rabidly chavvy anti Monaco
16 years tasting traffic jams instead of tavern pies, doing bicep curls with bags of cabbages.
Drowning in trolley fountains and blue rinse eruptions at the temple of torrential tedium
This wretched hamlet conspired to feed me the beauty of Anneka Rice.
She was round the corner but hey, for every pleasure, there is a sacrifice.

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Filed under 52 Week Challenge