These words kind of fell out of me tonight. The very first sentence was what triggered it, and as happens a lot, the rest just… Flowed. I hope you like it.

If I listened to the wine,
I’d pick up the phone,
Your voice would be soothing
To hear.
But that way lies sorrow
And things for tomorrow
So for now I’ll just sit
And cry here.

If I trusted the music,
I’d think love was real,
And not a cruel promise
That broke.
And the pain that did follow
With a heart made so hollow
Would not echo with words
Never spoke.

If the clocks could run backwards,
I’d start all anew,
Not make the mistakes that
Were made.
I’d inhale and I’d swallow
All my plans of tomorrow
For no future is too bright
To fade.


Daily Prompt: Memory

I posted this a while ago, but wanted to update it to include it in the Daily Prompt.
“Which good memories are better — the recent and vivid ones, or those that time has covered in a sweet haze?”
Although it’s not clear whether vivid, newer memories or time-stained distant ones are better, I think this post shows how good memories can be. I hope you like it.

walk with me,
these dark and dusty halls
of memory.

remembered scent,
of perfume lightly misting
treasured skin.

familiar music,
we danced in spinning circles
round the room.

laughter ringing,
shattering the silence of
misery’s hold.

arresting quiet,
the sound of passing breath
in gentle slumber.

forever wandering,
through dark and dusty halls
of memory.

Of Late

While here I sit,
In musty room of history
And oft-remembered cigarettes,
Your face no longer swift recalled
Of late.

The sun shown dust,
That filters sites so old recalled
From tattered pages ever old,
Taints my days with bitter sweet
Of late.

And though your voice,
That once did bless these shadowed halls
Was heavenly in charming life,
Now fades as whispered entreaties
Of late.

And all that’s left,
To comfort me in fading light
As day draws down to evenings end,
Is just your time worn memory
Of late.

Drift Away

To drift away on
Seas of night;
While storms did rage
And throw themselves
At shuttered glass
Suffused with light.

Where mind can wander
Shackles shorn;
To seek a world
In dreaming state
To voyage through
’til breaking dawn.

Remembered faces
From the past;
Seen while sleeping
In places new
With secrets told
Dispersions cast.

With rising sun the
Scattered night;
Dreams locked away
In treasured chest
Banished now
In morning light.

No More Fear

Come with me dear, and wander
Through halls of memory;
I’ll share with you each passing
Of life’s dark tapestry.

And as we pass each moment held
In dusty gilded frame;
You’ll see the wounds
By life’s amusing game.

These things we see, in monochrome
That etched my soul with tears;
All came together
To mark me through the years.

I show to you these images
Of sorrow, hurt and grief;
So you can see most
The strength of my belief.

That with you here beside me
Your presence ever near;
These memories are
No longer holding fear.

In Death

’tis not the dark
that scares me so;
for in darkness
the light of your
sainted face would
glow the brighter
for it.

’tis not the silence
that frets me so;
for in silence
the music of your
voice so sweet would
bless the quiet
with it.

’tis not the cold
that worries me so;
for in the chill
the warmth of your
touch so dear would
melt the ice
before it.

’tis not to be still
that panics me so;
for in stillness
the spark of your
powerful lust would
shake my body
in yearning.

’tis only one thing
that petrifies so;
in death timeless
the memory of your
encompassing all would
leave me lost
in mourning.

Wrath Of Heat

I’ve been lucky enough to be approached by three different people and asked to collaborate with them. One is in progress, one is ready to be published, and this one was finished today. It’s been written with a very talented photographer and poet called Jo, and you should go visit her wonderful website for some amazing photography and beautiful words. Follow the link here. With this poem, blame me for the bad bits and applaud her for the good bits. Thanks.

Never so misunderstood
lost in their worlds,
it never should
have taken place,
that way. That night.
But tortured souls
gave up the fight.

Balancing lust and self imposed
lost in the moment
when sense departs
in haste.
That night.
But actions wrong
still feel so right.

Those kisses though
Dance darkly still,
across my mind.
They always will.
Created music.
Poems penned.
We kissed as if
The world might end.

Remembered scent
of flushing skin
Like honeyed sin.
Stories told.
Pictures shared.
We danced as though
forever paired.

We fought within the
tangled sheet,
our souls to join hell’s
wrath of heat
Goodbyes were said
amongst defeat.
Yet our bodies never
miss a beat.