My Words, My World

First drafts – A few pages in the large wilderness of the world of writing

Archive for the category “Micropoetry”

Back to that old chestnut

Sleep no longer came around so often;

it shied away like some embarassed first date,

or a cat that slinks away under a moonlit sky,

or the thief leaving the scene of the crime.

Ah, fuck it!

There are still a million words to write.

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End of day

The sun rolled down the clear, autumn sky

in a blaze of fuchsia,

its light lingering

like a lovers’ first kiss.

Song of the morning

In the dark,
a candlelight in my head
as I’m pulled from infinite dreams
(of what?)

Eyes closed but the mind
opened to a thousand possibilities
in the coming dawn
(at least I hope it is)

I want to hear the morning’s chatter
among the birds
and their song of the morning

Another notebook

I did it again, without thinking. I went to the shop to buy something for the lesson I was about to take when I saw a new line of notebooks at a pinch of a price. Well, I’m sure many of you will understand me…I just had to.

______________________________________________________

Another notebook;
another notebook from a noted store
of a noteworthy purveyor of notebooks.

Another notebook;
bought with the notable intention of
making notes and taking notes.

Another notebook;
Noting acts of notability
and of notable notoriety.

Another notebook;
I have to take notice if I take notes,
if not; how can I note what I’ve noticed?

Black

How black is the soul

that shrinks from the radiance

of the night?

3am weather update

3am,
the devil’s hour.
The wind shrieks through the trees
and on a balcony
(mine?)
sends a flower pot flying.

Horizontal rain
sprays the blinds
in a machine-gun scatter.
With heavy head
and heavy lids

I sit
and wonder why.

Black

The sun draws blinds on another winter’s day;

whose light grows longer,

whose warmth grows stronger.

The sun’s rays of orange, pink and violet

grip the deepening sky,

like cat claws on curtains.

The sun slips below the horizon

like a drowned man

to leave me cloaked in black.

Green numbers

The hand reaches for the button

that flashes the green numbers

counting down the hours

of a night that is endless; and awake,

as I long to fall into sleep,

be it restless and haunted,

sleep it remains.

I envy it.

Cat’s eye

I’m not a cat;

I can’t see in the dark

yet it’s always dark

when I awake

and draw the line

under another night’s sleep.

Bonds

She haunts my dreams

And waking hours

She is gold and silver

And ringed with flowers

Her presence stills me

Her words enthral me

I am hers

And she is mine

Blocked?

Every letter lingers,

and every word wrings,

while the stubborn sentence stabs

the pained paragraph.

***

 

 

 

 

 

We

We sit,
we look,
we stare.
I know you’re there
You know I care, and
I’ll always be here

We.

Lunch in the park

Sun beating, sun shining
People walking, people watching
Trees growing, green leaves
Groundsmen cutting, green grass
Lake lapping, water’s edge
Water sparkling, countless diamonds

Birds singing, birds flying
Ducks swimming, swans snobbing
Violinists playing, Mozart scales
Me sitting, listening
Not speaking, just thinking
Eating lunch in the park

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This cold dark night

Firelight, flame dance

shadow tango, flicker bright

Light, blaze and burn away

the cold, dark winter night

 

The cold black winter night

of frost, snow and ice

of chilled bones gently warmed,

reading by the firelight

 

Reading by the firelight

Shadow tango, pages white

Let your warmth envelope me

and burn away this cold, dark night

 

 

The Butterfly Prisoner

Life hanging by a thread

Cold and dark, am I dead?

This tiny, cramped space

Could it be my tomb?

Or have I been born again,

a return to the womb?

There feels like a weak spot

In the wall by my head

But I can’t move my arms

So I’ll use my teeth instead

To dig through the grey wall

And out into the light

Where I can unfold my coloured wings

Stretch, and take flight

How to say goodnight

This started out as a prompt in Writer’s Forum magazine, giving me the title.  I really enjoy these exercises and they can make a wonderful change from whichever project you’re working on.

********************************

Walking together
Under foggy street light
While you wonder
How to say goodnight

How to say goodnight
Will it end in a kiss?
Or will you return home
And regret the chance missed

Regret the chance missed
As she fades from sight
Wishing you knew
How to say goodnight

Cold and Dark

January;

gloved and hatted

walk.

Frosted breath,

then, finally

the warmth.

Then cold

that condences

on glass,

rivulets running.

The dark:

getting darker, and

crowned

by white.

The cold;

to the touch,

to the senses.

How I enjoy

a pint of Guinness

Sound Travels

In the cold January air flame and smoke disappear

but the sound goes on forever. 

The pistol crack; the victim’s gasp,

dead before his wide-eyed head smashes against the pavement;

the screams of the passers-by;

the shouting policemen holding them back;

the wailing ambulance;

the knock, apologetic, on the door;

the crying, desperate,

left without a husband and father;

the monotone of the priest;

the 12 clicking heels take the coffin;

the sobs of the veiled

and the final, definite scraping of soil,

thrown from shovel to grave. 

The shot was still ringing out.

Amsterdam; funny old town

Amsterdam; funny old town

Rain splats in the Dam Platz

Friendships deeper than the North Sea

Red light window girl for all to see

All smiles and business

Display and pay

Canal boats and bicycles

Blond girls and blue eyes

Coffee shops and red eyes

Amsterdam; funny old town

 

Heart full of Words

Tonight, I’m not so bright

Head full of work

Heart full of words

Writer’s block?

Doesn’t exist. Just type

Damn it, type

Anything, everything.

 

A heart full of words

Can be held back

Only like the sea

or the mighty ocean

can be held back

Dam it at your peril

A dam can be broken.

 

A heart full of words

like a heart full of soul

a heart full of song

a heart full of faith

will overcome

the head full of work

and make me bright once more.

 

 

 

Waiting Room

Waiting room, full again
Doctor’s patients, my patience
Your sickness, my illness
Your prescription, my medication
Your suffering, my pain
Your temperature, my fever
Your bone is broken, my fever hasn’t
Your chest X-Ray, my chest pain
You cough your heart up
Mine’s about to give up
Your cure from a Chemist’s lab
My end on a Mortician’s slab

Become

Here am I
Who am I
In the mirror
My eyes
The eyes of someone
I no longer know
The eyes of someone
Who no longer shows
A light
A smile
I revile, myself
And who I’ve become
No longer one
Who was someone
To care
To share
To bare his soul
Insomnia has left a hole
But hope will not desert me.

Lugano Summer

The heat
The sultry heat
Humidity
Show humility
When my temper frays
And my patience craves
The rain
The wind
And the cooling
Of my soul
The summer lust
The heat-filled dusk
The night
The tortured night

Senza di te

Lo zucchero è amaro

senza di te

Il giorno passa lentamente

senza di te

Non ho voglia di sorridere

senza di te

Spero che non è per sempre

senza di te

She

She whispers to me

the sound of the spring snowmelt

She holds me

in a snow-chain grip

She loves me

I’m pierced by an icicle

I slide unhindered

on black ice beneath me

Damaged

Would you accept damaged goods?
Would you accept a damaged heart?
Not physically, at least I hope
But damaged in the wars of love

Could, or should I even offer such
What would you think of me?
If I tried to hide the pain and hurt
Pretending nothing ever happened

I’d be like the used-car salesman
Who filled the noisy transmission
with sawdust, to cover up
The damage done before

I’d try plug the radiator holes
But my pain would still seep out
The mileometer I’d try to rewind
But the miles done would remain

 

 

 

 

Chains

Chains

Chains around my feet;

age.

Chains around my head;

thought.

Chains around my heart;

friendship.

Chains around my soul;

love.

My Love

My love I hung

on a line,

out to dry.

To the bitter winds

of jealousy.

To the calm winds

of an embrace.

Shrivelled by the hot, scirocco

winds of passion.

Lava souls melting.

Lusted and lusting.

Wanted and wanting.

My love I hung

on a line,

in fear of

the black, polluted

dust of decay.

Of love no more

which no wind will stir.

Today

It’s the twenty second, yesterday gone
No super volcano or atomic bomb
Someones’ calculation went astray
The world should have ended yesterday
Down in Yucatan in ages past
Predictions made a little too fast
A man, a chief with feathered hat band
Arms to the sky, numbers in sand
2-1 1-2 2-0-1-2
I’m still here, what about you?

Us

The clock is ticking
Running down the time
As we run down our lives

The clock will stop one day
And so will we, we may
Look back on what we’ve done

We’ll look back and see
Just you and me, and we
Shall cherish all we done

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