I Know These Halls

Another one of those “where did that come from?”
I’m not sure I’m 100% happy with it, but I’d love to know what you think.

I know these walls
I know these halls.
I know these places filled with thoughts
And memories ever old.

In times of war
And conflict raw.
They rang with hallelujah’d songs
Like nought as gone before.

Inlaid with jewels
To suffer fools.
So tempting in the starlight gleam
But unfalteringly cruel.

We wandered long
And righted wrongs.
Remembered those of fallen grace
And courage ever strong.

Our tales so spun
Our ballads sung.
Through history’s pages carved in blood
As aged as setting sun.

I know these walls
I know these halls.
I’ve walked these places full of thoughts
And memories to be told.

My Window

Another new one, written and posted without censoring. Hope you like it.

There’s but one window, where I sit,
My only view into the world.
A slice of sky, a piece of cloud,
The hint of sunshine gold unfurled.

It soothes my breast, my beast within,
When gloried morning so appears.
And though the site, compressed as is,
Shows night has past, and calms my fears.

Time unknowing, has come and gone,
While here I ponder on my view.
And though I’m kept, so chained within,
My window lets my mind fly through.

Unknowing distance, sky of blue,
Imagined wind on tired brow.
With each new morn, my freedom sings,
Though here I sit with body cowed.

To chain a man, and keep him kept,
Such cruelty could you never see.
But with my window, my small view,
I have the chance to wander free.

The Phone

A quick, fiery rant against being interrupted – yes, it’s that sort of day.

Relentless raging ringing phone,
Why can’t you leave me the fuck alone?
Don’t want your sales, your PPI,
Your accident claim, your job for life.
Incredibly rude, just let me be,
Screaming insistent “Answer me!”
No matter the voice, the tone so used,
A cry, a growl, a shout of abuse.
It’s all the same, a pain in the hole,
The shrillness, the volume, taking it’s toll.
I’m not at all ready, not willing to speak,
I want to just sit here, enjoying the peace.
But just like a thought, an irresistible force,
It wails and it shouts and it can’t be ignored.
All action must cease, attention diverted,
The course of the day so cruelly perverted.
And what is the outcome, the dull end result?
The kick in the teeth, the final insult?

“Sorry, wrong number”.

In Our Dreams

Faithful readers…
I’ve had the writing itch for a few days, but not had any time to get anything down, nor any clear images. This one came to me this morning, and although it’s not great, I wanted to share it anyway. Hope you like it.

We run again, past cloudy fields,
The sky the shade of passion.
Not caring where our footsteps lead,
Nor bothered by the time that bleeds,
From deep within our sleeping.

This only world, where we are one,
Built from the dreams of fashion.
Apart we are in day to day,
But here we meet, come what may,
Our treasured world in keeping.

With keenness now, I lay my head,
In hope of one reaction.
To drift away on waves of sleep,
And join with you where we shall reap,
These passing hours so rationed.

Come run with me, through fired fields,
‘Neath sky and stars impassioned.
While we are here in sleeping world,
The night before us so unfurled,
Who knows what dreams may happen.


No explanation for this one – written and published this evening. Hope you like it.

I watch my shadow stalking me,
Through winters blighted halls.
It follows close, a dream away,
A darkened form of night,
Not day,
Such evil to befall.

In breathless pause I hesitate,
Awaiting dark reveal.
I know the name, this coloured cowl,
I scream it oft’ in sleep,
So foul,
No chance of hell repealed.

Why stalkest me this wicked shade,
Why grant me dark regard?
What past mistakes, in buried heart,
Should cause such nightmare cruel
To start,
And leave a mind so scarred.

With cry beseeching desperately,
I bid this shade take leave.
Turn from my path, let all woe cease,
I beg of you to grant
Me peace,
And give me time to grieve.

With no remorse nor flash of guilt,
This spirit takes me whole.
And so succumbs my chas├Ęd heart,
I gently fall into
The dark,
And forfeit precious soul.

In Truth : A Reading

It’s been another little while since the wonderful Fibee5 has graced these pages with a reading, but here’s a new one from her, reading my poem “In Truth”. I hope you enjoy listening to her as much as I do. And don’t forget to pay a visit to her blog, you won’t be disappointed.

Birmingham Jail : A Recording

I’m updating this to include it in the Daily Prompt. It’s not about my love of an instrument per se, but it shows how I like to mix great words (poetry of sorts) with my favourite instrument. It’s a very old American folk song, covered by all sorts of people. This is my version. The recording quality isn’t all that, and as always my voice isn’t the best, but it’s a lovely, lovely song, if you can just focus on the lyrics. It’s called “Down In The Valley” or “Birmingham Jail”. Thank you.


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