London Poem: Day 89

14 November

Collapsing into itself
In gentle folds,
Beneath a fire washed sky,
The horizon gives in, and disappears.
The dark blends into light,
And light making room for dusk,
The sky tumbles in tumultuous
Suspension casting certain pretenses:
That it all goes on forever.
Sadly, the great sea overhead
Crashes and what rests beyond
Is empty space.
The clash of two worlds coming
And going, folding and unfolding
Conceal our great void
Swimming in blankness.
To carry on –
We must build to find what
Exists beyond sight lines.

London Poem: Day 88

13 November

I dream with anxiety,
And hesitation –
I withhold out of fear
That our ends will never meet.
Before, when the days were longer,
You never hesitated to share
Where you saw us going.
Now, there is little reason
To explore the future.
Silence now booms,
And stands as your denial –
I waiver, and you ignore it,
Because what has come has
Strayed from what you hope
Would arrive.
I’ve regressed, and as I’ll
Come to find,
You have long ago.

London Poem: Day 87

12 November

I woke up this morning,
The rain falling gently, steadily.
The town was being swept away,
With I locked away, and concealed,
To wait for the boat to bring you back.
Clouds opened up,
And artificial light broke beneath it,
Building tawny shadows,
And little worlds,
Where everything can be,
And everything can be rescinded.
There are always two sides,
But each come hidden,
And it’s sheer luck
That it works out at all.

London Poem: Day 86

11 November

I remember well the long days
Folding into quiet nights
Of wonder, and weighing.
How would it all be?
There is still time to tell,
And there is time for
Further wonder.
We have moments upon
Moments left to spend.
Though, we still wonder.
Like the sea, we become
And we regress in alternating
Rhythms. I go and you come.
To be in the middle,
Where balance lives easily,
And our plans can shake
Further wonder, and blossom
Into being –
That is where I wish the
Quiet nights to deliver me.

London Poem: Day 85

10 November

The clock never stops,
Yet I wait,
Between rolling hands,
Folding one over the other,
For time to be on my side.
The sound of seconds
Ticking away, tell us
More about life,
Than our hearts can
Ever tell.
But, I still wait.
Your heart begins to fade,
Winding down,
But don’t worry.
I have time enough for
Us both.
Linger with me,
I won’t tell,
We can wait until
Both of our hearts stop.

London Poem: Day 84

9 November

There are trials, and hurdles
that we leap.
They aren’t huge leaps,
As we knock and clip
Along the way
But, up and over we go.
I hear music not far ahead.
It’s faint pall rolling
Some distance off
And we move towards it,
Leaping and dodging,
Hoping to hear more.
I believe in sound;
I believe in touch.
I believe in the senses that
Bring mankind together.
But, more so,
I believe in the senses
That remind me you’re still there,
Because I believe in you.

London Poem: Day 83

8 November

Even from here, I miss you.
We’ve traversed miles over night,
And this is where we’ve stopped.
I feel like I’ve been here before,
But never with you.
We climb and climb,
Looking back to the sweetness
We only knew,
And lounging, for a moment,
In problems, unspoken.
I miss you,
As my anxiety grows
For fear of what may come
Today. But, it is believed to be
Only in my head,
So, I wait for the vaguest
Suggestion of affection
So that in all this chill
I may, again rest comfortably
On high, where you live in
Peace with our love.

London Poem: Day 82

7 November

We stand back to remember –
Don’t forget the sweet
Feelings that lived in us
At the start –
As rockets propel up
They reach their zenith,
And at that moment
The world is at peace,
You are happy, we are happy.
As we knew it would,
But hoped it never would,
It explodes,
And as hours unfold,
So do we.
I am to blame for the fireworks;
I’ll take the blame,
Just promise to remember me
Before it went off,
And the night was still
Wrapped in its affectionate calm.

London Poem: Day 81

6 November

We live in a world of dilemma,
Bunched together
By a dredging mind.
Rolling over a past unchanged,
Which dictate a future of possibilities.
However, actions long already lived,
Tremble and shake where we are,
And what is meant to be.
Tiny remnants float –
We could say aimlessly –
But, there is precision
And cunning moving between
The me and the you,
Delicately splicing the firm hold
We once had,
Now falling into the hands
Of hopeful reconstruction.
The past exists firmly in the present,
To dictate and shape
The future we thought we’d built.

London Poem: Day 80

5 November

I waited for ages for this,
For you.
Months of dreaming of your hand,
And your kiss
Gave way to a love I couldn’t touch.
And, no matter how far I stretched
My arm, arching and straining,
I found nothing but empty space
And longing.
Now, months have elapsed,
And I find myself wrapped in you
It is odd where time takes us.
How can a love dreamed
Become a love lived?
It was easy with you,
But silly traumas threaten
Warm perfection, and all
Of the world’s we have
Dreamed together.
Let the man you met
Push through again,
To be the man you can
Never see yourself without.