Author name: Hayden Veil

In an earlier incarnation, Hayden Veil enjoyed a successful career in software engineering, writing late-night poetry in pursuit of sanity. On 2 February 2020, the world of Hayden Veil changed: Ghosts became real and with its soul laid bare there was no turning back from the perpetual path of poetry.

I would be poorer growing up today

Poetry Drafts / / By

I feel a bit sad
for those growing up today
constantly glued to their tablets,
missing out of the amazingnessness
surrounding them,
In the back of their car
not seeing the mountains and lakes or
the relics of olden days,
farms, and ruins still standing
Never feeding their curiosity
thinking where does that road go
Can we make a detour
To find the hidden gems
I know I would be poorer
without those experiences I had
growing up to be
who I am

Poetry Drafts / / By

lzlabs:

In the middle of my life
winter came…
It asked me to build a fire
with someone…
I did…with you

But I …

I still wander …

Lost in the blizzard …

Cold.

The Wayfarer – in silence speaks

Poetry Drafts / / By

I was gifted with more than one

As if one would suffice – I ask

How long could one last

the ticks of time grows longer

the creaks in the floorboards

only matched by your

rattling joints

One was cold – distant

Another warm – touching

One spoke of gift as good

Another saw poison – a marriage

One stood out

Another cared not

When all the pieces are in place

The picture nailed to the catafalque

You can say

I knew him – and all his ways

at the bottom (of) a well

Poetry Drafts / / By

She turned my head
for a while made me forget
myself
with my smile seemingly
lasting
the cork popping and
bubbles overflowing
the moment of
recollection
a hard truth
re-revelation
I don’t do people very
well

as one

Poetry Drafts / / By

the size of your tits, love
matters little in the grander
scheme of things

they will sag, eventually
no matter how long you
wear that bra

I don’t care really, what would I do
with something I cannot fit
into my hands to hold, anyway

the size of you heart, love
matters more to me
although I cannot measure it
the heart do matter more

what you say,
from heart must come or else
there be no trust; just void

the glance, your eyes must be
reflecting the beat of
the heart; inside

the balance; the rhythm
yours must match mine
though cosine and sinusoid
rarely meet; it would be a
grand feat to end up
as one

Poetry Drafts / / By

I will be going quiet for a while, need to find some motivation for this activity

call it a pause

not a departure

random thoughts on a Sunday afternoon

Poetry Drafts / / By

me:so I had this idea …
to write a story
but hide it inside
poetry!
not me: huh?
me: OK, sounds a bit daft but it goes something like this
Inside my poetry I will #HIDE parts of the story
and! to find out the really good bits of the story you would have to endure my shitty poetry!
not me: sounds like torture!
me: Well it is not for faint-hearted but I think I will give it a go!
not me: So how would I know which part is poetry (bad normally) and which belong to the story (hopefully better)?
me: I will plant some _clues_ throughout the poems that will lead you on the right path, there might even be links to additional content where you can find further clues. Sounds plausible?
not me: not convinced, let’s see how it pans out

running for my life

Poetry Drafts / / By

I don’t believe mental health issues
are contagious; per se
although from experience I say
that as anything you come into
contact with; it rubs off on you,
being just a revelation of doubt
or perhaps a contraption to spill
your hidden thoughts; the fear
you carried so long; buried
deep inside, now take flight,
ignites the dry autumn leaves
left in your corners aged,
your fiend – the wolf now
showing his teeth,
you either run or stop
to face the beast

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