London Poem: Day 150

14 January

The life of sight and sound
Come together without notice,
And without hurry.
Our hands outstretched
We find there is nothing,
It already passed.
What do we wait for
If there is nothing left?
The reoccurrence or the new?
Sound is what leads us to sight,
To where it already slipped off,
Unseen, so the mind latches to
Shapes resembling that of which
We hoped to see, and wait
Patiently for – those
Lovely little feelings
Desired from the onset.

London Poem: Day 149

13 January

Again the cold has come,
Caught in the trappings of winters
Previously lived.
The slow, gradual trudge
Seems endless, and the packings,
Which cease motion, keeps
Progress in place though
Directions lead to circles,
Deep underground.
Liberation is stifling
And unseen, but blindness
May only be understood
In years to come,
To know what freedom really is.

London Poem: Day 148

12 January

There is something missing,
Something concealed behind
A darkening veil that
Bends further from sight,
Cradling what was shown.
Fall vanishes with winter
Swallowing the earth up
In softly falling white.
Though spring follows with
Petals blooming surely,
Their arrogant blush and such,
Seeming unlikely that winter
Will continue on unimpeded,
Blanketing the world
In the gentle hush of
Natures rot and decay.

London Poem: Day 147

11 January

Let us watch the world
Break itself apart,
Rebuild, and to it
All again.
Nothing is ever as
It was, but still,
Our lives revolve
Around the same
Moving path.
We love we possess,
Right then,
Will in time be
The same love
In any other moment,
Be it lasting, or in
Thought. The pain I caused,
That too will live on,
But if this is true,
Our first night,
With you and me
In the deep blue sea,
Will pop up,
Time and time again.

London Poem: Day 146

10 January

Is love a one sided thing,
Flitting in and growing,
Causing every other thing
To lose its luster?
I don’t know –
But I feel my grasp
Of it giving out.
Just hold on a bit longer,
And I promise, in time
The grip will firm.
Favor slips in and out, naturally,
But love remains surely.
I just need to know that it
Is not one sided.
It’s a funny thing,
Growing larger and heavier
When the other half seems to
Be slipping away.
I know I brought this on,
And that wasn’t love,
But working to prove I’m
Learning is out of love –
Naturally, for you.

London Poem: Day 145

9 January

It begins slowly, without speech,
Because it was words that
Failed us the night before.
Guilt spatters in tiny flecks,
And in my eyes, though unseen,
Hope lives to bring love back to us.
We are far away by midday.
Allowing the world to spin
Without care for us, or for
What threatens to break.
To get past this, to give
Up the ghost, I would
Allow the world carry you on,
Further, leaving me behind
Just so you know I never
Meant any harm.
But, it’s done, and there
Is merely wishing left to do.
You carry us in your hands.
So, sculptor, what will you make?

London Poem: Day 144

8 January

I speak,
Knowing that it is unlikely
To come out right.
Words fill my mouth,
Widening, but as I push
Them forth everything
Changes, and their lush
Billowing shape falls sharp.
I never mean for what happens,
To happen. There is only knowing
And accepting, but still
I cling to my mistake,
Taking a step back and recreating
Only to forget that what was
Is long over, and it is
Moving on that should
Only matter.
But, too often we lose
What matters in reactions.

London Poem: Day 143

7 January

How does life manage
Without sacrifice?
Cutting out to gain,
But it’s easy to skip
Out on the forgiving,
Allowing life to shape
To the whims of necessity.
Pale lights dim in the
Sinking grey sky,
And I wait for a return,
Knowing deep down
That nothing can change
Because it is plainly unseen.

London Poem: Day 142

6 January

What does the winter beg of us?
Wild tossing wind strips the
Brave faces of any exaggerated
Pall, to sway from its due place.
Steady drippings sweep away
The white cover concealing
What nature sought to push away.
We are the night,
And by force, we are the winter
As the darkening light vanishes.
Here we are, waiting for spring.

London Poem: Day 141

5 January

My first snow fell tonight,
Life swallowed up by
Soft white sheets,
All noise coming to nothing,
And everything wrapped in stillness.
Lily white flakes
Flutter down like little
Drunken men;
The country in chaos,
But here, existence comes
Together, locked away
To let the rest get on
With their conflict.
It is you and I here,
With all of the cold and
Folds of sound tucked away
To be blind and dreamy
As the rest wrestle with their lives.