Poetry Drafts

FIELDS OF GLORY

Poetry Drafts / / By

At the end of this blackened night I shall set out on a journey, the likes of which only bards recite. But first I shall gather strength through rest. Then welcome dawn, the messenger, carrier of song of mornings, a gentle breeze through open windows, the smell of rising bread in baking and children’s laughter unmistaken. I must bid thee farewell as my journey is long with shadows of peril awaiting; you must remain strong no matter how long I take, to return from the fields of glory.

TICK TOCK

Poetry Drafts / / By

I’m out of time

with clocks still ticking

I’m floating

down the river of

infinite events

but neither swimming

nor drowning

misplaced or

displaced in a

multiverse of

mind

I’m out of time

with clocks still ticking

EVENING CUPPA

Poetry Drafts / / By

I’m not everyone’s
cup of tea
I’m coffee
gone cold
unsweetened
old
bitter and
going mouldy
re-heatable – surely
tasty – nah
if I’m in
your cup
throw me out
wash it clean
start anew
another brew
bitter sweet memories
replaced by
sugar and
spicy treats

CREATOR OF DREAMS

Poetry Drafts / / By

I am sky and ocean, waves and sand on days of towels and melting ice cream.

I am beacon of hope, your guiding light when all seems lost, darkness rules with no end in sight.

I am blankets wrapped on cold winters night with stars above and holding of hands.

I am radiating suns, the first light and the waning moon, the warmth that melts and cracks in ice.

I am beginning, I am end and I am everything you cannot comprehend.

I am reflections in mirrors, flickering in eyes, the kiss on the cheek and a whispering wind.

I am all you wouldn’t dare to be, all your wishes and prayers unfulfilled, always the answers staring you in the face.

I am to you as you are to me, one and the same, the creator of dreams.

S.1.R.3

Poetry Drafts / / By

The creation,
spawning by dividing
energy twice and twice only,
making the parts rejoined
observing the undeniable truth
the whole will be greater than
the parts

yet

the process kills,
weakens me with
every new attempt,
an agonising fever of
the mind
bringing me one step closer
to conceding

WHISPERING WIND

Poetry Drafts / / By

What be divided
among those
with nought
to divide

What bones
be broken
by those
with no spine

What whispers
in the wind
among those
with no voice

What path
lies ahead
for those
with no choice

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