I Remember

My muse, my long lost stranger, seems to have remembered where I live and now has decided to visit again. This one came from just one sentence, and flowed from there. One of the joys I get from writing is when that happens. I hope you like it.

I remember how they danced,
Unknowing view from way on high;
The secret see of lovers grace,
With tears of sorrow on my face,
And all about this haunted place,
I remember how they danced.

I remember how they laughed,
Such painful sound within my ears;
Dark joy of lovers seen below,
With me above where they don’t know,
To spy upon this love sick show,
I remember how they laughed.

I remember how they kissed,
A wicked dagger to my heart;
The fates conspire with nought that’s fair,
While I alone can sit and stare,
To see old lover standing there,
I remember how they kissed.

I remember how we kissed,
And how we laughed at all the world;
Forever was our time in space,
My only vision your sweet face,
And though another takes my place,
I remember how we danced.


I love the language of Shakespeare. The forms, the words, the ebb and flow of his speeches and scenes. I wish I had the smallest modicum of his talent, to be able to craft words in the way he did. All I can do, in my own silly and unworthy way, is to try and write things in the flavor of his language.

In deepest night,
Whilst sleep did so evade me,
Such wicked vision with malice
And cruelty did come, to mine eyes.
O, could man such as me stand
A sight so evil? But in all darkness
Abound, one more dark picture
Could not any more disturb this
Sweet wine doth lose its potency,
Dark poppy, with its heavy smoke,
Doth fail in all its ability.
All thoughts of restoring sleep
Are driven, as the wind doth drive the
Clouds, away and far, by these scenes
So shown to mine eyes.
O torturous mind, why must thou
Bring to me such unwanted and
Unwarranted scenes? Be at peace, you,
And grant this man only sleep, in all
Its blessed majesty. Sleep, and only sleep.

The Island Of Symi

My dear readers.
Are there any of you left? My life has gone through a few changes and upheavals and my creative muscle has grown flaccid. Weak. Nonexistent.
For the first time in weeks, I have managed to produce something new and original. It’s not my best, but it’s NEW and it’s a start back on the road to writing. If there are any of you left, thank you for sticking with me. I hope to start writing more again.

The island of Symi, 
It calls me again, 
The sun and the sea
And the darling lost friends. 
Where balconies beckon, 
With views of the sky, 
A glass of red wine 
And a glint in my eye.

The island of Symi, 
Apart from the land, 
The fishing boat shadows 
Glow dark on the sand.
Where streets full of wonder, 
That narrowly twist, 
The scent of your perfume, 
The taste of your kiss.

The island of Symi, 
Oh, please take me back, 
The sea and the sun
Are what my life lacks. 
We’ll wander the narrows, 
And talk down the day, 
The island of Symi, 
Is where we shall stay. 

DP: Evil Exists

It’s been a long time since I posted anything. There are reasons for that, but I will not go into them here. However, I saw the Daily Prompt today and it gives me the opportunity to at least reblog something. I hope you like this.

“Write about evil: how you understand it (or don’t), what you think it means, or a way it’s manifested, either in the world at large or in your life.”

Born of hell-fire
and firmament black;
evil incarnate
with devil made pact.

Gruesome in countenance
vicious in deed;
pleasure in flesh
that easily bleeds.

Fire and brimstone
the promise in truth;
freely corrupting
all passionate youth.

Unreasoning wickedness
creeping in sin;
blissfully freeing
the beast from within.

A killer at night-time
the darkness a friend;
not caring for righteous
sweet heaven forfend.

To sacrifice innocence
on alter of pain;
there’s nothing to lose
and a shadow to gain.

This cruelty embodied
that darkly persists;
gives proof to the concept
that evil exists.


I wrote this to take part in the Whimword latest challenge, using the word “locket”. Hope you like it.

It shines upon her beating chest,
This tiny store of hopes and dreams,
An image kept at loves behest,
But he, alas, not as he seems.

The fragile chain that holds it there,
Made of gold with tender clasp,
Formed by hands of love and care,
And with its links this heart to grasp.

A single catch to keep it closed,
And hold such secrets deep within,
Hid from the world when fully clothed,
But seen by all when dressed in skin.

This treasured locket kept for years,
The love inside shown as a lie,
And though the truth has brought forth tears,
She’ll keep his image locked inside.


My output has slowed down of late – a combination of things has conspired to reduce my creativity and inspiration. This one came to me last night, finished today. It’s quite short, but it’s something new. I hope you like it.

With wine such lips are easy freed;
Such truths emerge in shadowed room,
Where guilt revealed ensures thy doom,
And lovers trust is gone too soon,
All for the sin of greed.

With wine thy actions show their cast;
To turn away when love is shown,
Dismissive queen upon her throne,
With crown of sadness thou shall own,
All joy is in the past.

With wine the scales fall from my eyes;
No more illusions holding sway,
All subterfuge is drawn away,
Now truth forever come what may,
No more to live with lies.

Too Early

I saw a tweet today – a pub has already got a Christmas tree up. In September. That’s ridiculous. It drove me to write this. Hope you like it.

Before the autumn’s been and gone,
Before the pumpkin faces seen,
What madness takes an early hold
With Christmas on our screens?
Too early for the tinselled trees,
The glittered baubles garish glow,
Such crass commercials everywhere
With fake and sprayed on snow.
Where once a sainted holiday,
Religion as it’s central theme,
Now a gross and rich parade
Of money, gifts and greed.
Save me from the false bonhomie,
The drive to purchase more and more,
We’ve not yet welcomed Halloween
Yet reefs are on the door.
Yule tide is for winter only,
When cold and dark nights wander in,
It’s far too early here abouts
For Christmas to begin.


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