Time…

It never leaves
Day by day crawling silently forward
playing the long lost friend who wants
to come and stay.

I sit to share a moment with you
Reflective in mood, oh I know you are there
lingering like the depression of a gnawing hunger pain
just waiting to be fed.

I face the mirror
the windows of all reality.
What do I see – who is it, that looks back at me.
Why it is you of course: striding ever closer.
No longer that far away distant stranger
Hello, I say; come on in – you have finally
entered my life.

Poppy June 29th 2013

Dream Catcher…

Outside my window, the sky is
macabre.
Inside my head, musicians play their concluding
tune.
I ask, that you do not read this out loud
no vibration needed
Save it for the eyes only.

Silence spreads like water in an empty room
mulling over a sweet heart neck line
you dally
whilst pendulous flowers soak the river dry.

My memory grasps at images
purging estuaries enlarge my catchers net –
Crushed within the heart
stain of red unseen

He is
She is
They are
We are all –
populated by the simple dead.

Poppy June 27th 2013

Daffodils…

How long this winter has visited us for.
I do not get out of bed any more
refusing to laden me; in copious outer layers of clothes.
I have taken to walking the dog in my sleep
along with blowing daisy chains from clouds
of forbidden cigarette smoke.
There is still some life in the old gal yet – forgive me
wont you; if I refuse to croak today.

Billy came calling this morning.
What a dear sweet little boy he is.
He’d stopped off to buy me some candy
like two naughty kids; we shared a lump or two.
His innocence was my salvation this day.
No questions about me instead we talked
about his new sprinter bike.
He promised me a cross bar ride when I am feeling better.
I’ll hold you to that I smiled.

The rain has flattened all the daffodils
Yellow beheaded faces recline looking up at me.
I pull close the curtains – I want to remember them
dazzling in their yellow gowns – and yes, laughing
and dancing upon the breeze.
Damn, I hate the wetness of water where the hell
does it all come from?
My prospects are what you might call
somewhat unstable these days –
Oh, don’t mistake my out pouring, as me
looking for a shoulder to cry on
I just want the flowers to be golden
shining bright on my final days sun.

Leaving…

She stayed –
duty only, imprisoned by her possessions.
Like summer, dragging her heels late
fragrant days declining.
In her own mind, she had been leaving too.

Sometimes she danced, casting those moody
clouds from her eyes.
Yet those doubts remained tidal about her feet.
Unleash those moorings they whispered
sail away – come with us; drift free
come closer – closer they ask:

For we cannot love you until you love yourself.
Don’t let the fading warmth of summer
decree your days.
Look the door stands open –
only those robes you choose to adorn
shackle this lady down.
Yesterday has become out lying
gone:gone: gone.

It shall pass with easiness of time
as the heart changes so the ghosts
of past are laid – no longer do they stay.

Poppy June 2013~xx~

Scarlett Poppy

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Flower Of The Flock

I will watch as the candles cry
themselves cold
stare out the oil lamp – until it burns dry.
At the heart of the ridiculous, beats
the sublime.
You loving me just a simple flower
from your flock.

I am addicted to your addictions
in all of their unpalatable truths:
disciplined well in all of your art form.
White suffused with red, a smear by any
other, would simply be pink
Extracting sound bites
the shadows of life fast forwarding
that replay dial – called living.
Far distant on some whitewashed shore
the tide long ebbed
as raindrops rare – a city glows.
I in silence lie about my bed
bleached roots – to anchor
the rawness of this canker.
Last night I did not play with sleep,
I fell into the madness of sharing
what is mine.

Poppy 2013 ~xx~

Whilst…

Life breathes in
flickering like a candle to diminish then die.
Time feasts on us all as exit my youth
she is now but a shadowed storm.
Sanctity echoes in all that I was
desolation of affliction – absence
spares, no words of kind.
Whilst, you were sleeping I left
words of love upon your lips-
free them back to me
rolled out on hallowed calm.
Save me from the tastes of hell
beneath deaths heel of servitude.
For your love, has exposed my mind and
body naked –
All that I was, lies broken; relics scattered
pigments of this land.
I am shivering cold untouched
by the contours
of the sun
obliterate the pain bound to my coat
of you.
My love I am but sleeping undisturbed
As on English soil the bluebells flower
let not them cease their life for living

Featured Poet For July.

Peter the Editor of Barebacklit.com has asked me to be one of their featured poets for next month.

Honoured, delighted – and then some is all I can say.

Thanks for your support of my work Peter.

Poppy June 9th 2013

Hang The City Blue….

Ambient decibels merge the cities tempo
the comings and goings of the wilder beasts stalk
the lonely man in front –
Home is where we choose to live
the race is on – for those
who manage to get there first, amid the
ever frenzied chaotic rush.
I hate the City
place of birth, latch key kid, my
place of work.
Excuse me I say ‘do I know you’?
Seeing another stranger
offering me the eye!

I am not known for begging – ask anyone.
Nonetheless I want things to go back
to being the same – though different!
Allow me; to be your summer girl
all over again.
When young I remember painting pink roses
abstract fashion about my door.
That was before you changed
the landscape on my perspective of splendour.
I shall miss your pendulous beauty born not
out of vanity; that you display before my eyes.

All land is concrete, when your vision is absent.
Allow me, appointed surrogate protector
to mourn such a transitory attraction.
I would become archaic if not to see once more,
my violet blue addiction; my wisteria garnished in
her jewelled grandeur.

She makes me no guarantees –
I must bide my time in waiting patiently
to see if maybe next spring  she will
return  to court my thoughts once more….

 

Poppy June 2013 ~xx~

 

 

Sink or Swim…

Well I have taken the plunge no more poetry forums to test my work out on.

The safety net has been removed
Just me, my words, and an editor at the other end of the line – so to speak.

I hope that some of them might actually like my work enough to
offer it some room space.

I am currently working on a collection of 16 poems – only time will tell as they say.

Sink or swim – if only I could swim!

Poppy June 5th 2013 ~xx~