Poetry Drafts

Autumn wind

Poetry Drafts / / By

There were no dreams; growing up

I was the leaf; blown about by

an autumn wind; drifting free

yet shackled; restrictions imposed

unknowingly hampering

the dreaming; the purpose

of all

The day I stopped living

Poetry Drafts / / By

The day I stopped living

(*)(*)รทยถ
~~

The day I stopped living
now faded
beyond memory
fragmented
horrors
stirring

The day I stopped living
the ghost came down
the attic clown
in clogs
slowly turning
mirrors cracking
my waltzing Matilda
a dutchess
in dreaming

The day I stopped living
I toppled
stirring
frowning down the
piper of Maris —

burning

I dream of ice-skating

Poetry Drafts / / By

I think the frustration boiled down to either

A) it was 8.45pm and it was still +32C outside and the open windows did not help a damn bit, it wouldn’t get any colder today, fact

B) there was no time for the wine to chill before I opened the container, and lukewarm White is such a pleasure to consume, right

I reckon it is probably both plus the fact that I realised that learning a new language requires either sound proof walls or… Yeah that’s about it, repeating out loud on a bus or whilst walking down the road is just asking for trouble. Plus plus a fact I haven’t considered, maybe learning a new language through the means of a second language is a bad idea to start with.

So right now I picture frozen lakes at Christmas time, people on skates, a cold drink in my hand – covered by mittens.

(A|B)ware

Poetry Drafts / / By

I was not aware; no
the warning sign;(s)
well obscured; hidden
unsighted by choice
seemingly, lustless
dreams and longings
for goal yet lacking
the ball(s) to kick

the day would come
sooner than so; so
so written
among the leaves
scattered; so spoken
by those gone before me
so blatent
yet impervious my skin
filled of sin; and rotten
acorns

I was not aware; no
one day my steps
would shorten; the
pace; cadence actual
no longer matching
the thoughts driving
me forward; or back
undeniably

I was not aware; no
that one day I could
feel older
older than I actually
was
older than so and so
those word once spoken
though true
ultimately ignored and
all lessons to be learnt
once more
by living

Courbevoie

Poetry Drafts / / By

I walked the streets of
Paris, le gay Pari’, though
no rainbow I saw; just the
gray that was beneath me,
my mind uneased by
the not knowing
the not speaking
them not speaking
the not quite belonging
not just yet – anyway

Walking in Paris

Poetry Drafts / / By

I walked
from bed to bath
down creaking stairs
of a shabby Paris
hotel

Passed passed-out
drunks and on to
Louvre – a sunny day
sun block was
bought

Through the trees and
the park up to the
arc so triumphant
an Italian wanted trade
leather for much needed
petrol; no, no, no

Down towards Seine
through smelly back-ways
I found myself lost
dreaming of riding
bareback to relieve the
pressure upon my feet
so sore

Towards the tower Eiffel
with snakes of fellow
Parisian I join the queue
for Northern lights but
patience ran out quick
I left

Onward and upwards
Trocadero in my grasp
the views not spectacular
but I would not miss them
for the world

Submission to the Metro
line 6 to Etoile
then further out to
Le Defense majestic in
its sight

With hope of rest my
day so ended, RER A back
to Les Halles my friend
no one waited, just the
open window of the
shabby Paris hotel
I stay in

thus far

Poetry Drafts / / By

You say “thus far”
implies
there is more to
come
as a promise
given
of more more
much more
but I say “thus far”
will only take you
here
no more will be given
except the final
stop – on its own

.

underground

Poetry Drafts / / By

You might say
I was a Toddler of
the Underground

The layers of
blankets wrapped
up harder so hard

I cannot say for
sure as the memories
are fading, I am
getting older and
the blankets long
gone go figure

You might say
I was a Child of
the Underground

Seeking solitude
among worms and
rotten bones

Comforted by moisten
soil beneath my skin
and echos of
silent dreams

I cannot say for
sure as the memories
are fading, I am
getting older and
the soil has washed
away, still dreaming

You might say
I was a Adolescent of
the Underground

Tunnelling deeper and
deeper into
becoming one

I cannot say for
sure as the memories
are fading, I am
getting older and
the tunnels
never ending

You might say
I was an Adult of
the Underground

Building my house
on solid foundations
should have been the
plan, now crumbling

I cannot say for
sure as the memories
are fading, I am
getting older and
with age comes
another burden

You might say
I will become the Hero of
the Underground

Rising above the petty
squabbles, embracing the
love I have so far
not bothered with

I cannot say for
sure as the time is
of limit but I pray
you are right and the
remaining days be
b.l.e.s.s.e.d

Prompted by a @reinventingwednesday ย prompt: underground

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