Poetry Door Opens

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Poetry Door Opens

Postby Lak » Wed Jan 09, 2008 6:06 pm

Some poems written by me...

What I haven't brought...

Pen and paper? Check
Time to get comfy.
Suddenly thirsty - must get a drink.
Okay, lets try that again.
Pen and paper? Check. Drink? Got it.
Foot tapping. Thinking.
One dot on the paper.
A shift on the seat. Not comfy. Time to move.
Rug? Sofa? Bed? Sofa.
Right. Pen and paper? Check. Drink? Forgot my drink.
Try again - Pen and paper? Check. Drink? Check. Sofa? Comfy.
Ready to go.
Suddenly recall that last bit of work that can't wait -
Where's the time gone? Well, must press on.
Pen. Paper. Drink. Comfy. Ready now. Thoughts coming... pen moving freely...
Phone rings.


Bare skin caressed coolly by the warm breeze
Drifting about our body, entwining between our limbs.
Four voices rise in laughter, echoing down the quiet street.
We watch, awestruck.
A bundle of clothes is tossed into the air
And left to fall like rain around us.
Defiant, one stands with fists on waist
The sinking sun glowing around him.

A shout. A call.
Three heads turns to the voices that rule their world.
They turn to the last man standing.
Grins plaster faces and the laughing repeats itself and follows
The running feet into the safety and warmth of shelter.

A pair of eyes peek from behind curtains
Searching for the rebel bathed in gold.

The light has gone though.
With it, the warmth has been sucked away
And leaves, not a glorious statue, but a trembling, pale child whom,
Thinking he’s alone, grasps wildly for his discarded pyjamas
To clutch them tightly against his chest.
Not defiant. Bewildered. Alone.
A final look for backup. A final look for someone to take a stance with him.
A light flickers on in a window nearby.
Shaking now.
The defiance cracks and fades.
He runs where his feet should have tread an hour before.

Skara Brae

Slàn leat Skerrabra – fight against that
Killer, Time. Handle the tramp of feet though,
Ancient as you are, peace is deserved and,
Revealed to life once more, you must show how
Alive and resilient you are;

Buried, not once, but twice.
Reborn once more to struggle
Amidst the violent thrash of wind and sea
Eroding all you are.

Cliche Kitchen Madness

I’ve nearly got everything but the kitchen sink –
Once I learnt not to put all your eggs in one basket anyway!

Ready, set, go! One step at a time – After all Rome was not built in a day

Time flies when you’re having fun…

It’s now as hot as hell and my feast for sore eyes
Has gone from feast to famine -
Flat as a pancake

Lesson learnt – if at first you don’t succeed;
Destroy all evidence that suggest you tried.

Oh well. I’m only human and my time will come!


“Do you want a shovel with that hole?”
“Okay, I’ll stop talking now”
“It’s funny because it’s not funny”

Laughter rises and gently falls again
Amidst the heat.
Cutlery clinks and clanks in gleeful delight and
Silence seems a stranger.

A word spoken wrongly though
And the stranger visits;
Welcoming himself to the feast and
Halted festivities.

No one breathes and the air seems tight,
Oxygen lacking.
A face off across the table and all eyes watching,
All bets on.

“Okay I’ll stop talking now.” Is uttered by the guilty,
Allowing the words to be swallowed back
Into the silence.
Silence still.

Eyes glance from one face to another,
Waiting expectantly
For the reply that they know is
Sure to come.

Eventually the insulted shifts,
All eyes glue themselves
To wait
And see.

“Do you want a shovel with that hole?”

Laughter rains once more upon the crowd,
The command not to stay silence given
The same as forgiveness; disaster diverted.

And suddenly the rain does not stop, and bodies curl
Upon themselves
Desperate for that air they need
To fill their lungs.
Someone manages to speak the question they all wonder;
“Why are we like this?”
In answer, a small face finally emerges,
Red and tear streaked.
Gasps of air wrack in and out until the words flow out;
“It’s funny because it’s not funny!”

As Mad As The Setting Sun

Warning glares across the sky
As the storm of red deepens and darkens -
Angry at its loss of control.

A multitude of colours collide and sink into each other,
Pulling each other into the abyss that remains below them,
Their claws and teeth linked and connected in death’s embrace.

Dying embers light the sky as
Streaks of light shiver and spike;
Last attempts to save itself from the rest it must take
And the lonely darkness that will remain.
~LoF~ * ~FL~ * ~AoA~
"Fractions of fear make shadows of nothing."
~I look to my Eskimo Friend
When I'm down, down, down...~
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Re: Poetry Door Opens

Postby Lak » Mon Nov 10, 2008 9:14 pm

I am here but perhaps
Should not be
As I see and hear nothing
That seems to fit
Or make sense
To my mind that flounders
Trying to place together my role
My being
My meaning that slips away
Whenever I come close to grasping
A possible reason
As if to tease it leaves
Or perhaps it flounders too
To find the person that should be here
And that is not me
So we are both empty
Both confused
Watching and waiting
Reaching out every now and again
To see if finally there is a connection
But I fear it will not be
So I wait
And I watch and think I should not be here
But still I hope

To Let You Know
Good evening Brothers,
Whose dreams allowed us to
Fly with the birds;
No longer envious but wanting still.

Do you know what you’ve done?
You inspired us to break our limitations.

Look up dear sirs,
But not as high as you looked…
Look further.

See those lights that dazzle
Us in amazement.
That make us lose our words.
We reach there now - for more.

Take away the wings; you don’t need them.
And prepare the metal cocoon;
The slim casing
That’s saves us between life and death.

Strap on pure brute strength.
Now ready to go, we fire,
And a few brave souls will soar
Further than you ever dreamed of.

Dear Brothers can’t you see?
If you close your eyes and imagine.

Remember the feel of the wind against you?
And the power that ran through you?

Well, we may not have the wind,
And we may not all get that high
But what we do is reach out
And push beyond the stars.

Amidst the rising ridges,
Mist clings,
As the moon begins its
Gentle careful climb into
The twinkling night.

Where twitters and hoots
Mute out all other sounds
Bar the hounding wind
That winds, serpent like,
Amongst the settled stones.

Shining down softly
The white glow shows
Glitter that glistens upon
A tranquil pool that echoes
Dark and mysterious depths
To those who seek the cool rest.

“Beowulf visits Tesco”

With empty stomach and wilting strength
The hero hobbled through glass-plate
Sheets of turning tricks which seemed
To trip to stop upon a simple touch.

Entry made; marvellous sights
Sunk into hero’s eager eyes
As grumbled gurgles broke the surface
Of macho skinned outer ego.

Up and down the dainty isles
Strode the giant, gallant still
As sorrows flowed as food went by,
Leaving too much choice to choose.

Another banshee stomach scream
Decides the hero’s final plea
As arms swipe swiftly out to take
The trolley load - a kings own feast.

Haiku anyone?

Stone cold bridge at night -
Feet contemplating their choice.
Now. Just one last breath

Wrapped up so tightly,
Hidden from cold and pain - still
Blankets must be shed

Light streams on wrinkles,
Illuminating a smile:
A memory now
~LoF~ * ~FL~ * ~AoA~
"Fractions of fear make shadows of nothing."
~I look to my Eskimo Friend
When I'm down, down, down...~
User avatar
Mad but cute
Posts: 5893
Joined: Wed Sep 25, 2002 5:00 pm
Location: Falkirk, Scotland, UK

Re: Poetry Door Opens

Postby Lak » Mon Nov 10, 2008 9:16 pm

So say - is this something that can be fixed?
This mood within that builds upon my heart
When light does shine and spark, though bleak inside?
I stare and watch, amused by dark, fat drabs
Of rain which streak across the glass window:
Behind the grey blasted clouds, glares a beam
Of hope into my soul, yet fails to lift
The veil of gloom that sinks its teeth down deep
And sways within to a twisted, sick beat
Of hate and love and fear and shame – a confused mind

One Regret
Leaving was meant to be easy;
To see the place of death
and false hope for the last time should have been bliss.
But it’s not; it’s painful.
It’s abandonment to the highest degree.
Turning my back
on the place that gave me this life;
The thing which made me who I am.
To go now is betrayal,
but still I cannot stay in this world of suffering.
So now my gaze falls upon the lush green and blue hues
that fill my mind with beauty
causing the heart to battle the mind over my decision.
I must go though. I must leave
before I lose hope of what we could do with our humanity.
Or perhaps it is humanity that I flee from.
After all, look at all the things we created
or caused.
Leaving was meant to be easy, but it’s not.
Shame is what fills me;
not just for leaving,
but for what we’ve left behind
as a footprint
of our nature.

Random Poems

All over the planet - the shatter;
She states that it really "don't matter"
He leaves her in pain-
With nothing to gain-
Bar double the hurt through the batter.

He struck the end hammer at home-
His story is told in a tome;
The floor was streaked red-
She surely was dead-
Avoiding the need for a comb.

December is happy and bright;
The snow will be shining quite white.
We'll ski down the slope.
I really won't cope-
With Summer and Spring - it's a blight.
~LoF~ * ~FL~ * ~AoA~
"Fractions of fear make shadows of nothing."
~I look to my Eskimo Friend
When I'm down, down, down...~
User avatar
Mad but cute
Posts: 5893
Joined: Wed Sep 25, 2002 5:00 pm
Location: Falkirk, Scotland, UK

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