All 5 entries tagged Poetry

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December 26, 2005

Turquoise Ink

There is a pen in my hand,
the likes Iíve never seen.
Its ink is neither blue nor green
but somewhere in-between.

December 25, 2005

The Map

There was a map
upon my table
coated in
weather-proof plastic.
With time on my hands and
dirt under my nails
I trailed my finger along its
A-roads until they reached
their conclusion
at the paperís edge.

The clock struck 12 .
I turned to see
but while I bowed my neck
the map began to shake.
Without warning it grew beneath me.
It rose from its synthetic casing
and broke through my studyís walls
in an explosion
of swelling grid lines.

I lost my footing
and dropped to the ground.
The new real red-road
felt firm under foot
but flowed like a river and

twisting with an uncertain desire,

It tossed and turned me to
an unknown quarter.

When I arose
I saw the mapís borders
had vanished
over the horizon.

Above me
an enormous compass
hung in the sky
like a stray balloon.
Its sharp needle skipped
one way then the next,
as if at the whim of the wind,
pointing me in
a multitude of directions.

I ran,
half through fear
and half through passion
but the landscape curved,
dived and leapt
at the Northís shifting impulse.
I could not stop so
I stumbled between sandy bunkers,
Ox-bow lakes
and crossed church spires.
But they all lead to spilt ink fields
and I was left unsatisfied.

Tiring of the search
I settled on the curved forest.
Even though I could not see
beneath its muffled, triangle top.
it looked appealing.
Flirtatious contours
bent towards its rim
and beckoned in my direction
before they slipped inside.

I looked up at the compass
but its needle was now missing
and it hung there,
blank like a dead sun.

I took the first step
and followed the contours
but not without first
sparing a thought for
the nearby canal,
wishing we were more alike.


December 24, 2005

Festive Cheer

*

I hate your christmas
reminder that answers don't
come wrapped in paper.

*

Humbug to you all
t'is the season only to
drink coca-cola.

*

If there is no beer
under the tree i'll have to
to drink lynx gift-sets

*

Merry Christmas, One and All.


December 23, 2005

Yet Another

i dunno…

Pandora (A Poem for Doubt)

I once owned
this ladyís box
not knowing
what was inside
And i thought
I'd never know
until the
time i tried.

I won't waste
my breath
explaining what
you would
all endure,
on opening
that tender lid
and taking
whatís in store

For when I did,
I wished Iíd not
and cried
for many nights,
Getting up
To face
the day
became a
constant fight.

Iím glad to say
thatís over now
and I walk
where I please.
I gained strength
from that
pale box
and its
strange disease.

Now I'm not sure
if i should cry
or smile
or scream
or laugh
for once again
Iíve found myself
flirting
down its path.

Now I know
just what it is
itís hard to
stay away.
But if i do
i'll never tell,
for i will
be betrayed.


December 11, 2005

Chained

Chained and heavy books
Are thrust onto my lap,
Break my breakfast table
And rip the laced cloth.

Later while my memory is elsewhere.
My neck is grazed by painted fingernails.
Hidden in the artistís doorway,
We share tales of pain
And move closer,
Your toes are stirring the welcome mat.

Dimly lit by an old art-deco bulb
You are like that cover,
Pure white and torn.


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