London Poem: Day 211

16 March

Silence, and us two,
Unprepared to forgo the
Breach to allow our life
To swim as it should.
Fragile, we live in the
Palms of each other,
And silence hurts as
Much as speech –
I’m sorry.
Sorry for the way I carry
Myself and let dreams
Come between you and I,
When you are a dream
I never knew I could have.
We are swimming together,
In a world better than
The one envisioned for ourselves,
Long before you and I were we.

London Poem: Day 210

15 March

I write to fill in gaps,
To create scenes, and
Mark places I’ve
Never seen, or lived.
A whole world is created
With the brush of the hand,
And here, I’m satisfied.
But, what happens when
The imagination runs dry,
When the mind goes blank,
And my memory turns to a
Great, vast blankness?
There is only sitting and
Watching the world roll by,
Until there is no life left
To dream of.

London Poem: Day 209

14 March

The days are growing longer,
The swift deception of spring
Entering our little minds
To push the wild bloom
Into all living things.
We grow and become anew,
Confusing birth and rebirth,
Hoping that all can become again.
Surprised, the rain comes and
Erases the hope of warm days.
Heart sag at the ongoing chill.
The world, once glowing and full
Of hope, now breaks as the clouds
Fail to follow hearts.
Hoping for more than there is,
Turn to the mind, and it will
Build what you need for as long as
You need it.

London Poem: Day 208

13 March

What we make of the world
Lifts up, raised with extended arms,
And when brought down,
We find nothing left.
Around is a life unseen
In grand dreams,
But the careful plots
Have been spliced
To build a life, unpredictable.
Eaten away, the dream pops,
Here, there; across the spectrum,
Bending this way and that,
With the face unchanged.
The dream blinds even
The most guarded eyes –
But, here you are nonetheless,
Loving the uncertain, and
Uncharted life.

London Poem: Day 207

12 March

Between you and me,
Surrender and fight,
Is the calm sea.
But, for how long?
To sit and twist
While the wait grows,
Anticipation eats away at
Corners, allowing what
Will be, be before it
Really does.
Everything is hungry,
Even the sea,
So how does a body avoid
Being eaten alive?
There is little left to eat,
It has started already,
So what is the harm in getting
It under way, sooner
Rather than later?
Just let it come,
As it will anyway,
And wash over you.

London Poem: Day 206

11 March

A life taken before it
Could ever truly begin,
Washing mourning over all.
It so many ways,
It was never to be,
But pain, the longing and
The chancing cries,
Evolved as the event did.
Unsteady in emotion and place,
Coming and going without warning,
The light dims and everything
Dissolves, and all that is left
Is to forget and move on.
Easier said then done.

London Poem: Day 205

10 March

Another Day swept up in the unending
Stream of unnecessary information.
Back and forth, the days wane,
Blurring between this one
And the last.
Call, pull it back and do it again,
But know there is no retracing your steps,
Only progress without motion.
Beside and beneath the world moving on,
Even false progress eludes,
But what do parents always say?
Buck up, and try again tomorrow.

London Poem: Day 204

9 March

What is said, is not always what is.
To be certain would be to take time back,
And have you do it all over again.
Deceit is so easy.
The lazy, unerring of trust
Is so easily exploited, the action
Is a reflex, but where can it go?
Innocence slips away and the thought of
Us teeters between heaven and hell.
There is time yet to salvage what we have,
But I cannot hide that tonight,
I only see one way to morning.

London Poem: Day 203

8 March

To start dictates a certain end,
Be it through nature or not,
To breathe life into one thing
Pulls a finality over it all.
Watching as life shapes the
Way I’ve come to recognise it.
I fear what come too soon,
As my eyes are caught in a
Blink, and unprepared;
For the sound of a rushing escape,
The totality crumbling before I can
Brace myself for what will
Surely come.
I know how this sounds, but
Like myself, nothing lasts forever;
So, let it be nature that rips
It from our hands.

London Poem: Day 202

7 March

To travel again,
Balking at the station residence,
And wandering in daylight
To find sight and pull me away.
Corners bend and fall away,
Concealing the here and there;
Two sides, and the blank stare.
Just wait, let the sun
Slip away, and forget
The words you hoped to
Pass because it won’t be the same.
It’s the idea of things that
Push us anywhere,
Not the end itself.