Mist Coloured Room

It’s cool and removed,
With a scent of the past,
Successes and failures,
Colour the mast,
And where I must stay
For my beauty to bloom,
Forever alone
In my mist coloured room.

It’s quiet and still,
A place to be heard,
The shouts of the world,
Take flight like a bird,
And where I must dwell,
And be gone none too soon,
Forever at peace
In my mist coloured room.

It’s locked and withdrawn,
A secret retreat,
The keys are all mine,
Kept private and neat,
And where I will live,
From midnight ’til noon,
Forever as one
In my mist coloured room.

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Reborn

Chase the light behind the dream,
Where tales are never what they seem,
Behold the lies,
All hows and whys,
The sound of silent screams.

Run the roads where trav’llers roam,
Explore the paths away home,
Deny the truth,
Ignore the proof,
For sins you may atone.

Lose yourself within the storm,
Take heart when all about forlorn,
Grasp hold the spark,
Unfurl your heart,
Such thoughts will be reborn.

Basement Bars

In basement bars where old
Men sit
And contemplate the past;
The smoke from vanished
Cigarettes
And long lost fat cigars.

To wait awhile with fluid
Dark
And drink to those removed;
The passing time ticks slow
To fast
Warm spirits start to soothe.

Voices meld and form
The sound
Of oceans black and deep;
While in my bubble
Patiently
I wait for booze bought sleep.

These darkened dens of
Alcohol
That call from far away;
Will always be the place
I come
To waste away the day.

So join with me at bar
Of wood
Where drinks are bought and sold;
And here we’ll sit and with
Our words
We’ll fix this darkened world.

Reblog : The Beekeeper Approaches

It’s been a few days since I had the time to write anything new, and so here’s another reblog. It’s different to my normal love / evil posts. I have no idea where the idea came from, but this is one of the ones I’m pleased with. And it’s got the word ‘twixt’ in it! Hope you like it.

The beekeeper approaches
in mind controlling all,
his bees in multitude did swarm
‘twixt hive and garden wall.
With smoke of scented poison
he caused a rushing swirl,
the bees in panic flew around
with tiny wings a-whirl.
Like blackened snow in blizzard struck
their bodies flew about,
the beekeeper in canvas suit
stood resolute and stout.
With angry buzz and wicked barb
defensively they flew,
but the beekeepers protective cloth
would not let stingers through.
What allegory could be struck
through images herein,
with beekeeper and honeyed hive
and swarming bees within?

Reblog : I Dream Of You

Ladies & Gentlemen, it’s another reblog today I’m afraid. I do have things I want to write, and some good ideas, but I’ve actually been too busy… which is unusual for me. So, one more reblog of something I posted a few months ago. Thanks for reading, and I hope you can bear with me during this fallow period.
Much love.
Simon

I dream of you.
In ivory silk with
sun blushed hair,
spied through window
unaware;
I dream of you.

I dream of you.
Your words of love that
calm my heart,
though miles of night keep
us apart;
I dream of you.

I dream of you.
Your bottled scent of
summers shine,
that dances through my
sleeping mind;
I dream of you.

I dream of you.
Where touch and taste will
always be,
in ever present
ecstacy;
I dream of you.

I dream of you.
In all and everything
you are,
perfection seen though
from afar;
I dream of you.

The Beekeeper Approaches

For some reason this post posted twice – apologies.
The beekeeper approaches
in mind controlling all,
his bees in multitude did swarm
‘twixt hive and garden wall.
With smoke of scented poison
he caused a rushing swirl,
the bees in panic flew around
with tiny wings a-whirl.
Like blackened snow in blizzard struck
their bodies flew about,
the beekeeper in canvas suit
stood resolute and stout.
With angry buzz and wicked barb
defensively they flew,
but the beekeepers protective cloth
would not let stingers through.
What allegory could be struck
through images herein,
with beekeeper and honeyed hive
and swarming bees within?

Pontificate

As I lay on freshly laundered sheets
and try to nap,
a cooling breeze with blessed relief
blows through windows gap.
But with this gust dancing on the wind
such words are heard,
as strident female voice pontificates
on thoughts absurd.
The court of Louie Fourteenth is just one
subject said,
Victorian sex lives with ladies chaste
sprout from her head.
Such strident voice with facts cast iron
ring through the air,
her lucky date may have a thought but
she does not care.
Oh let me rest and not have to endure
your blinkered view,
I care not for what you think is right
or all you think as true.

Just shut up.