August 2016

poltava begone

why ask for forgiveness

when I have nothing

done

my umbrella open

strolling with the

sun behind me

on streets

of prayers

children tugging

battle formation

mercy calls

hollow eyes

following my steps down

into

a kingdom

of dark

dark

days

ruler – liberator – snow

sidestepping

the chain of command

the desire to knock on

the door

of life

never approaching

the well of youth

carrying the corpse over

snow covered mountains

brothers realising

the kingdom has

finally fallen

the raven flies high over

the lion bleeding

fearless

I am all that matters

the killings must stop

innocence let live

the unnamed soldier

in chain mail

breaking

religion’s not the answer

our sins not

punishable

his will not enforced

here or in the

Heavens

bread and fish

requires water

my throat is dry

my power is divine

question me not

I am all

that matters

outside your comfort zone

sometimes

long after the sun has set

the streets are empty bar the stray cats

all the empty bottles properly

sucked dry

the box of matches empty

nicotine alarm

I will consider leaving the house

just for a short while

to stock up on that

which keeps me alive

until the coming

night

Prompted by a @maxmundan prompt: outside your comfort zone

trying to forget

your class is different from mine

you posh totty

your language is not mine

remember that next time you correct me

you have offspring

I just just try

trying to forget

as I fall in and out of

love

Prompted by a @maxmundan prompt: trying to forget

flawlessdecay:

If death come to court me
And I go on with him.
Remember not my face.
Think only of my words.
The ink I have laid nearly
In line some with out reason.
Some with rhyme.

but if Death comes to court you
and you go with Her
your face have no meaning
your voice never to be heard
the papyrus blowing in the wind
the ink drying out
awaiting your return
the sun rising
slowly

ducks in acrylics

ducks in acrylics
barking dogs ruffling
feathers
the pond I ponder
over yesterdays
the nows and thens
the whos and whys
the lakes beside me
covering the floor
the bodily tears
from trying too hard
ducks in acrylics – not
this painting my friend
is real

Scroll to Top