Tag Archives: writing

Pistons

Carry me home

Slay bells toll

A maze in this mould, bridging the gap

Burning soles find heaven I’m trying to put my face on the map

Why smash your pumpkin when you’re a sweet potato

I carry me home on this crowded railroad.

Adding carriages can be painful and I hate reservations.

Carry me home shattering webs and fathoming dust.

 

Die? Me?

I rust raging rainbows

There’s levels to this painting.

 

Your stares dress me on fleet streets where you’ll find that I’m a neon pink and lime shrine

You’ve got to be a pupil to see me in more than black n’ white

Oh, you think death is strange?

So it’s not just I.

If life is a cycle I’m here for the ride

 

I’m here to shake chandeliers of shamanic tears till diamonds find their way to their crown.

Is death an emergency stop or a slowing down?

 

Carry me home canoodling setting concrete.

Carry me home crowd-funded by choruses and crashes.

Feed me clashes to comb

There’s science to the magic but I don’t want to know.

As I know sure as the slay bells toll

I’ll just use it to carry me home.

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Filed under Random Poetics

Squatting in Space

Railing from missteps

Time slips through my fingers

I can’t catch breaths

With every blink, I beat my breasts and suckle solar flares

Somehow I’m running from my right to be bare

Yeah!

I wash in polarising pools of platitudes and curses

What’s love if they only say patience is a virtue?

My life ain’t chapters they’re verses

I hammer definitions like a wordsmith.

Flattered by my flaws there’s no iron in my steel.

I’m arrested by bars but.

Somehow I am the keys I can’t feel.

How can I drive my life if everything else takes the wheel?

You tell me

What’s the formula one needs?

Is it bleed, heal and repeat?

Is it greet, grope and retreat?

Is it please, police, preach and never teach?

When you’re aiming for the stars….

You don’t lighten the darkness reaching for bleach!

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Filed under Random Poetics

Plodding

You’ll never know what you can bear until you fight with one.

Though I wasn’t bred that way I take a slice to know the light is on.

Been decked by my cards so I shuffle around the boat.

Drowning in the blue that the red mist lead me to.

Clutching pearls that swine gave me.

Scorched earth screaming green as new shoots.

Golden boots give tours of their shoe collections.

You’re only good as your answer to the last question.

The fable of favour requires faith to become a fact

I fight with enlightened beasts, it kills me where I’m at

Blind mice testifying of finding big cheeses releases of hope of planting my flag on the moon.

Everything I should have done has been festooned.

Everyone I should have been, marooned by who am I now.

I look up to look up though I’m down.

What now?

 

 

 

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Filed under Just Living

Shaking the block

Writers block writing stop
Fighting what fires flocks
Painting luscious lions, locks
Ignited align with minds that won’t malign your crops.
You won’t see diamonds stop.
Shining when clouds climb on top.
The rush of the ride will drop.
Sometimes you’ve got to be a minotaur to get behind the door.
Frames change games, meanings names.
Blame remains that same iceberg lettuce.
This ain’t your average Tetris.
We shift gears because our vehicle lets us.
Watch your steps sun, don’t be caught in plain tiffs and vain rifts.
Your gift deserves more than memes and gifs.
I chop it up through writers block to give a soul a lift

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Filed under Random Poetics

Teenage Dream (4RW)

We were apples in fields of Perry,

Our exercise books were the gallery and shade where we ripened.

Your gallant smile garnished my appetite as my heart galloped.

At a chance glance you stirred the meat and the juices, I couldn’t decide between hunger and thirst.

I would have licked your lips for starters, chewed on your garter.

Every note was a recipe and I wanted you to cook my parsnip

Yet I was just fishing and you were already parsley.

We were like onion and garlic when English and Geography brought us together

 

Fondling the fringe of our fantasies in front of our future was a natural hazard.

Playing with the shape of you was the intention but, maybe I killed us thinking out loud.

Forethought and hindsight were toll roads asking us if we had enough change.

How deep were our pockets? Was I ready for yours in mine?

What’s a perfect 10 when you’re in year 9?

We never….so I guess I’ll never…..never mind

It was real at the time.

 

Maybe you were the first brick in a very long road

Maybe we would have found the lost city of gold

Now you’re living on the other side of a rainbow.

My flag is nowhere to be seen.

You’re the pear in a Perry field because I didn’t have the bottle.

I’m not a whine seller, simply a painter of paths.

Our moments on Fleet Street… thanks.

 

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Filed under Relationships

Potters’ Arf Marathon – My Story

Potters arf Race no.

Although I took part in a half marathon 5 years ago for a charitable cause, fitness wise I’ve only recently begun to battle the early 30s bulge.
During the working week, I walk about 25 miles so  walking Stoke -on-Trent’s “Potters’ Arf” (half) marathon seemed a great fit for me.

Having lost a family member, bought and moved into a house in the last 2 months, I haven’t had much time to train. I didn’t know how fit I was or whether I would match the 3 hours and 50 minutes I did 5 years ago. Until the starting klaxon, butterflies were salsa dancing in my stomach.

While my “man in black” attire seemed at odds with the fluorescent offerings by the groups around me, the air was filled with focus and fun. On a grey and increasingly wet Sunday morning in June, I was certainly in the focus camp.

Today I would be a soloist surrounded by small orchestras while others hoped to raise money, my job was simply to get over the finish line in one piece.

Though I started in the front 15, I didn’t expect to stay there. The banter with a small group who would alternate between running and walking through sections of the course made for an entertaining first half.

I would pass them, then 5 minutes later I would hear buckets jangling as they passed me in a blur of pink.
I played pick the pacemaker with various people in front of me until they were too far ahead or behind. As my pace steadied, a 52-year-old guy called “Brian” and I begun a conversation. I’d say he made my decision to do this worthwhile.

Hearing about the cause he was doing this for would have had me in tears had it not been for the rain filling my eyes. Getting to know “Brian” throughout the middle of the race helped this overthinker relax and find my rhythm.
If I’d had my phone I would have focused on it and probably slowed down to check every mile. Instead, through our conversation and the rhythm we found, we managed to reel in and surpass those doing the run/ walk combo.
As the crowds started to thicken at around the 9-mile mark, I was starting to lose him and by the 10th mile when elite runners had passed me, he was out of sight.

From then on the energy from the crowd became my battery. I thanked or gave two thumbs up to everyone that applauded or told me to keep going.I officially crossed the line at 2 hours 58 minutes and 45 seconds.

“Brian” was right, we had hit a quick pace and somehow I’d managed to maintain it.As I scoured the official results, he was nowhere to be found, “Brian” must have been an Angel sent to encourage me, for that I am thankful.

I learned  several things about myself today,  simple as they may be, my 3 takeaways are:

  1. Focus doesn’t mean intense self-talk. Tune into your journey and the people or things that help you with it.
  2. Walk your walk. Your Brian will come and go, you still have to cross the line.
  3. Find the fun(ny) – a smile is a groove that may help you find yours.

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Filed under Non Poetic Blogs

Lip Service

You keep kissing me in front of all these people
Expecting me to fall in love with you.
We seem to meet before the party, then it’s hard to get in touch with you.
I died for more than double you.
Hold this L
If it’s not too much trouble how about a… hello?
Public displays of affection, rarely a conversation.
You pull up a pew and rearrange the table.
Snack with me and regurgitate it.
Why? Why take the plate if you’re not hungry?
Why tell me you love me in public?
You barely shake my hand or hug me.
You immerse in my water and refuse to plug me.
If our lips must combine like oxygen and hydrogen, why aren’t we more than friends?
Am I the luxury meat at your barbecue?
The pumice stone to your ego?
If I’m the cross road you take in a blue moon in spite of your better route
If to yourself you’re being true, this arrangement is shaky.
Sometimes I hate it.
Our snap chat, I’ll take it over an Amen on Facebook.
I might be on your speed dial for the sake of it,
It is your heart I’m truly taken with.
You are worth the chase and…although you say….
I do… without the declaration.
Some folk forsake marriage for a lifetime of dating.
The choice is yours, is this a love worth embracing?

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Filed under Faith, Random Poetics, Relationships, Society