New Poem

I was wandering through a lonely black tunnel

The sound of 'To Live is to Die' ringing in my ears

My thoughts loud whispers trying to be heard.

And yet the distance was bleak, a shadow in the past,

The future's glimmering ghost waving from afar.

Is this, the present, what I worked so hard for?

A labour without recognition,

A depth of expression passed off as folly,

A momentary lapse of consideration

for the artist in the moment

- any moment -

Making do with the muse that presents a pose,

Lightweight though she may be,

Better than none at all.

    This moment captured,

    These words raptured,

    Hangman prose stature.

But as the tunnel grows longer

I notice the darkness itself glimmers,

A call to respond: this song is over.

To live is to create, to die is to be done;

If nobody hears, so the song shall be sung.

Silence be my laughter

An age of pain remembered,

Words still form from this crafter.

- 19/05/12

Rain Poem

Blue Sky you try
To fool me with a cloudless bright,
But past days are remembered
And raincoats will not be surrendered,
Not for you, not for the hope of sunshine
On a day-long tender.
My awareness shall be the defender
And bringer of warmth when the pretender
Clouds over and drops the temperature,
Chilling the arms and legs of innocent bystanders
(Merry their shrieks of concern).
Fingers trace the dial o' heater
Bringing the warm rush of relief - and release!
And the betrayer left to weather the outside like a teaser
- blue sky here, grey sky there -
While inside, the timber walls fill with laughter.

- 17/05/2012

New Poem

Hard task ahead, My
poor children have bled,
Tears are piling up
Alongside the fence.
We reap what we sow
And gain no resolve;
Shape our crook'ed hearts
To raise up new growth.

- 26/03/12

A Scene: Move Me Closer to the Bar

 

“Your scotch on the rocks with two dashes of coke, sir.”

“Many thanks.”

The waiter made to go but I stopped him, feeling concerned about the solitary position I had taken in the vibrant (but not overly busy) cafe/bar. “This is the first time I have been in this joint you have here. It feels like I may be occupying a space better suited to someone enjoying a meal.”

“Oh no, sir” the waiter replied with genuine refusal. “Relax and chill out” he smiled.

“Ahh, you are kind sir. Nevertheless, I am just a party of one, and if you need to move me then feel free to do so … closer to the bar.”

The waiter laughed as he shook his head.

I didn't get the joke. “I'm serious.”

“Okay” he said, still laughing as he walked away.

After my fifth scotch, the Jazz notes spilling from the guitarist's fingers seemed to mould into a blur of notes flurrying about the air, attacking empty spaces left by the absence of competing voices pausing only for breath and a chance for their lips to covet glass tumblers.

I turned my head as though listening for the all-defining note, that one moment when Jazz transforms itself from scales, chords and modes into a lush forest of experience, a soul cruising ray of light...

A shadow passed across my vision. No, not a shadow – an image. An image draped in trench coats and cool. “Was this the chief of cool?”

“No you bluthering idiot. Put that bloody scotch down or you'll do yourself an injury.”

“It's okay ma'am” I spluttered back. “I'm experienced at this.”

“Drinking yourself stupid; yes, I know. The only thing you are experienced in is making an idiot of yourself. You don't even know who you're talking to.”

“Dame... dame...”

“It's Danne you idiot. Do I sound like a broad? Bloody hell!”

All in Good Time

My Life for Change (acoustic) by Warstub

All Arguments Aside by Warstub