Dreams, Contrasts and Realities
Dreams, Contrasts and Realities
Portfolio
A portfolio containing some of my best poems.
Marry Me Kate
Last days,
Parting ways,
Final goodbyes,
Final chance to make things right.
Last chance to say the words,
To hand you my hopes and dreams,
To do with what you please.
Final sweet embrace,
In giving you one final hug,
I lean deep into your shoulder,
My parted lips close to your ear,
I whisper in serendipity,
"Marry me Kate."
A breathless whispher,
A moment lost to the breeze.
Drawing slowly back,
My fingers whisper against your skin,
I see the surprise in your face,
A glistening sparkle in your eye,
I have given you everything,
Finally been honest,
My dreams upon you rest.
I wait with the truth standing between us,
For you.
The Graves
Upon the crown of a hill,
Stood the graves.
In the middle of a French town,
Atop a grass covered treeless hill.
Two memorials to the dead,
Two simple stone pedestals,
Alone on the grass,
In parallel lines,
Each surmounted by a stone coffin.
Against one I leant my back,
Facing the other,
It was a clear, still summers day,
No bird song, no noise just stillness,
In the middle of a French town.
I had two people with me,
They might have been my parents,
But I could not tell,
I was not looking at them,
The grave in front of me had my attention.
The grave at my back had many names,
A list of the dead,
Was the coffin empty?
I could not say.
The other coffin was certainly not,
I stood staring at this one,
Leaning back against the other,
I felt utterly alone,
I do not know who is within,
I do not know why I am here,
I stand and stare.
I look around in the bright sunshine,
Streets radiate away from the base of the hill,
Looking down them I see they are still and empty,
Nothing moves, not even the air,
We are the only people in sight.
I pass comment on the deserted streets,
One of my companions speaks,
"They stay indoors as a mark of respect"
I say nothing,
Just stand and stare at this tomb.
Suddenly the streets start to fill,
People and children, the whole town,
Stream towards the hill,
The tears begin to fall,
As the crowds and the sadness closes in,
The tears cascade like a waterfall,
Ultimate sadness envelops me,
In my own sad circle of space,
I cry in silence whilst all around me is noise,
As the tears stream down my face,
In utter deep, drowning sadness,
I wake up crying.
Seeking Serendipity
Once upon a train to Didcot,
A wise man wonderfully whispered,
"Seek Serendipity my son".
Strange, he was not my father.
Just a cliched charismatic character.
For as I recall my thoughts,
My mind jumps to explain,
The unlooked for happening,
Upon that train.
"Seeking Serendipity?" Replied I
"Yes" Quoth the wise man,
With steely eye.
I turned away from the wiseman,
But have you not missed the point,
Thought I,
'Tis meant to be unlooked for,
So "why?"
I turned once more to the wiseman,
Who refrained from commenting more.
Time passed,
The train rattled,
The sleeping world sped by,
And my eyelids began to droop,
Monotony became common shared time.
In the darkening twilight I puzzled,
Upon the mages words.
"Tickets to serendipity"
Chirped the guard.
"Pardon?"
I bleakly replied
Before a word was uttered more,
The wiseman reported,
"He knows not of serendipity"
In that you may be thwarted
"He does have that glazed grin"
Said the guard,
Tapping her polished boot,
Upon the floor,
"It is simple young sir!"
Exclaimed the ticket maid,
In a voice that spoke of white knights on horse,
"You cannot seek but you must be open"
Words uttered echoed into silence.
As we rode into Didcot Parkway station.
I got up to leave the wiseman and the maid,
Who said not goodbye,
But spoke as one, "Remember!"
My head lost in deep thought.
I departed across the gap,
I alighted into the orange glow,
My eyes hard upon the floor
A lass brushed past on my left,
Something white fell away,
In the corner of my eye,
My footsteps arrested,
I stood staring,
At this object so white,
At this bereft handkerchief,
"Miss" I cried,
For I was not late tonight,
But she was already seated,
Without a thought I charged,
Making the step with a bound,
The doors cut through the air,
To complete the surround,
And as the train began to sway,
I spoke up,
"Miss, you dropped this"
As her head turned to take in this new voice,
Between the clack of the wheels on the track,
My head leant to one side,
My eyes opened wide,
My heart jumped the gap,
Her eyes said welcome back,
And the wiseman and the maid spoke again,
"Serendipity next stop!"
With a smile and a nod,
I took her hand and held on.
Dreams, Contrasts and Realities
Earth below, sky above,
In the middle was the poet,
On a hill he stood,
Hands outstretched,
Within a sultry expectant summer balm,
A conductor with literal baton unfurled.
Fields of golden words surround the hill,
Waiting to be claimed,
To fulfil the poet's needs,
And fill the sky from horizon to horizon,
To speak of dreams, contrasts and realities.
Tap, Tap, a shaft of sunlight announces the title,
An ink stained hand poised with mighty pen.
Words fly searing the dust mots,
Of the lazy summer afternoon.
The overture concluded,
The symphony begins,
A dance of whirling waltzes,
Words flying together and apart,
Sentences forming and dissolving,
Punctuation pulls together,
Structure ebbs and flows.
Strong emotions fill the poem,
To play the harp strings of the heart.
Images so creative and colourful,
Sear memories across the retina of life,
A heightened sense of awareness,
And a vast immense significance.
Out of chaos,
Comes a newborn screaming poem,
Bursting with ripe emotional fireworks,
Illuminating and touching ever soul.
But the golden fields are barely diminished,
Words to make more poems,
For there are always,
More dreams,
More contrasts,
And more realities.
The Maiden of the Surf
Amidst the smouldering heat of the city,
Stands a casual babe clad in black,
Hidden beauty, untamed spirit,
Underneath a surfer shack T-shirt.
Hair swept back,
Casually caught in a leather thong,
A girl in the crowd,
Standing with the anonymous multitude,
By the bus stop to nowhere.
Far from sun, sea and surf,
Deep depths dwell within her,
Perfume promise of the sea and undiscovered land,
A heady scent of summer's caress.
She aches to be free,
With the wind streaming her hair behind,
Sun and spray falling on her sun kissed shoulders,
Surfing with angels on the breeze,
Laughing to the four winds,
Smiling at the memory of the baking city,
Savouring this life,
Of the rising spray,
At once alive and free.
The maiden of the surf,
No longer bound to this earth,
Sparkling in the crisp morning mist,
Floating above the wave tops.
All this is seen in a single moment,
Which departs on the bus to nowhere,
Leaving only the scent of the ocean mist.
Dissolving memories in the hot still air.
Night Snow
Snow flakes,
Falling like confetti,
In silent drifts,
Swirled and wrapped in the wind,
A show for one,
Of audience participation,
Audience anticipation,
Air alive,
With ice white zephyrs,
Spirits of snow,
Ghosts of ice,
Silent,
Falling,
Fleeting,
Snow.
Grasping for Thoughts
|
|
Candle to the flame,
|
Farewell In Brown
Log fires,
Candlelight,
Deep within your gaze,
Shared laughter,
Warm smiles,
Afloat upon your eyes,
Brown eyes of comfort,
Warmth and light,
To cup your cheek gently,
And kiss you farewell tonight.
Cornwall
Summer days,
Heat haze,
Mind at peace,
During summers lease,
Restful holidays,
Among Cornwall's sunny bays.
©2006