Tag Archives: free verse

Stream of Consciousness Ramblings

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My stream of consciousness runs

As the clock ticks.

The night is dark.

My heart is part dark.

I hear the TV

In the other room.

I imagine a girl’s perfume

But it is just I

Alone, unable to call.

Yet I may fall again

When I return to the capital city.

I can be witty

And I have desired pretty

Girls. I still do so,

But know

The night is cold

And I grow old

As the clock ticks the hours away.

In May

Girls dance around the pole.

I desire women and wine,

But time is short

And what I ought

To do

Is …

But to kiss

A girl’s soft lips

And for it to be meaningful

Would kill

This itch of mine

For women and wine.

Or perhaps I lie

To myself.

It is a truism

That wealth can not buy

Happiness.

Yet I

Continue to lie …

 

With the Dark

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With the dark

And the light

In my heart

I make art.

 

I play a part.

The stage light

Illumines the night.

 

For a while

I smile

Then comes the dark.

 

 

Closing

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The clock ticks another year towards its close.

Winter’s clothes will soon replace autumn’s leaf-strewn face.

Spring lies well concealed in the wings

And summertime is a half remembered rhyme

In the ageing poet’s mind

Where everything repeats

And time defeats.

Until all as leaves fall.

Winter Solstice

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The wall clock ticks.

We have reached the Winter Solstice.

The ache in my shoulder

Says, I grow older.

But, after tonight

The evenings will slowly turn bright

And bare trees

Bring forth leaves.

 

 

The longest day will come.

The winter solstice

Will return once more.

But the great see

Must, one day

Sweep all this away

Leaving nothing behind.

Yet we still dance

Surface

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A shadow in the bathroom glass.

What I see

Is the public  me.

And when I pass

There will be

No me to see

Merely soulless  glass.

 

 

Yet reflected back

In the verse I leave behind

Some may find

In my rhyme

The black

And white we call art.

 

 

Now in the mirror I see

The surface me.

And not my heart.

Sirens and Birds

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I heard sirens and birds

As I stood

In the darkening wood.

Later, when the sirens where gone

The birds sang on

As I passed through

The churchyard

Pondering on what is true

 

Ennui

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Me alone at home

Listening to the autumn rain.

You, on the train

Coming to relieve me of ennui.

We will play

On this rainy day.

But I can not pretend

That ennui will not descend again.

For I often find

That the rain

Hides behind a smile

The Autumn Rain is Falling

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The autumn rain is falling,

I hear it on my window

It’s voice calling

To me of temporary

And permanent things.

 

I should go below

Leaving rhyme behind.

For I am not the wind

Nor the eternal rain.

And one day I must go

Cold

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The cold bites hard

In the churchyard.

 

 

The temperature is zero.

I know

These fallen leaves

Do not deceive.

 

 

My autumn has come.

And alone

I go home

Heading for the churchyard

Philosophy

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The weather grows colder

And I older.

The clock ticks on.

Each second gone

Forever lost to me.

 

I sit alone.

Mere flesh and bone.

Is there a possibility of immortality?

That may be.

But for now the clock mocks

All my philosophy.

 

 

 

 

I wonder, could ther