Autumn

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Autumn blew in

at the beginning of September,

it’s high gusty winds

marked the start of coats

and gloves,

scarves were to be unfurled later.

 

It blew against the leaves

littering the pavement,

making little tornadoes

amongst passers-by,

that were then kicked

as they fell to the ground.

 

It blew against the windows,

knocking against the spiders web

with leaves on glass,

the heavy wind pressing

against the clear pane

in the ever-darker night.

 

It blew against her heart,

the cold seeping in

as she wrapped up tighter,

knees clutched closer,

knitted jumper on

making balls of her fist around the material,

watching tv

as she fought against the cold and sleep.

 

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wanna be

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“Man I wanna be…”

said the bloke at the bar,

sipping a pint of beer

wandering onto the next word,

but it didn’t come.

 

He thought to himself.

Successful…

not a chance.

Together…

he eats alone in his pants.

Footballer…

his two left feet swing against the stool.

Singer…

the rasp in his voice scratched on the air.

Artist…

his club fingers grip the glass.

Happy…

he’s at this bar.

 

“Man I wanna be…

something”

Bicycle

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Despite the passage of time

the bicycle still stands

tyre’s flat

and discolour on the frame,

it hasn’t moved in years.

 

The outside has changed,

a new lawn,

pond with fish,

a fresh tree planted

with long limbs flowing in the wind.

 

But the bicycle is forgotten

and the rust has set in

it’s youth years long gone and used.

Tyre’s flat and rust on the brakes,

it’s just using space.

Past lives

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Young and hopeful we ran

through these streets

and alleyways

turning in and out through barriers

to the different houses and greens

laughing.

 

Now I walk these streets again,

years have passed,

the fences broken and falling

the trees overhang

and old passages built on,

only the concrete remains.

 

The houses where they once were

have changed,

the people left

and no youths run the streets.

The greens contain “no ball games” signs

and the playfulness is lost.

 

Maybe we’re allĀ  lost now

or just older

seeking hope in new houses on new roads.

Only the concrete remains.

A rare post…

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Yes I know the title is cryptic.

 

However, there is a reason for it.

This post is basically an update post on this blog so that I can keep you guys (reasonably) reliably informed. As you might have noticed, I have been a bit lax with my posting of poetry. It’s not through lack of trying or lack of inspiration.

I’d love to say it’s due to lack of time, but in all honesty it’s due to me being too busy.

I have had a busy year of it, my job is quite trying and keeps me on my toes. I’ve been going to the gym at least 5 times a week, and I’ve also been helping out at the local pub.

So I’ve been a busy boy.

However, I won’t be leaving you guys in the lurch (though I don’t think many of you read these poems), I will endeavour to post a poem at least once a week.

My recent one for this week is entitled ‘Cigarette moments’, do take a look and let me know what you think in the comments.

Cigarette moments

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The cigarette lit

in the dusky night sky

left a glow

beside the twinkle of your eye

and the smoke

filtered upwards

into the air

to join the rest.

 

A chattering hum

filled the shelter

as reverie from the cold

took hold,

we shivered amongst the gossip,

hands in pockets,

arms crossed.

 

After five minutes

a unanimous agreement occured

to get back into the warmth,

a door opened

and a sudden blur of music

pulsated and escaped,

we stumbled into it.

 

These nights I’ve forgotten,

apart from these small moments…

I wonder where the rest went.

Fumble

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As the light dims

and the softness

of this new glow

hits your eyes and cheeks

 

I fumble for words

on my lips

 

and the connection

between synapses

loses signal,

I struggle for focus

and my heart can’t keep time

with my breathing,

 

tell me this isn’t just a dream,

I don’t want to forget.

Rotations and moments

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While gazing at stars

my mind raced

as I breathed in

the summer night air.

I counted each pinpoint

spark of brightness

coming to light

as dusk settles to night.

Nearby, the thrum of passing

cars punctuate the stillness,

the exhaling sigh

from your side

punctuates the creeping

dusk glow near my eye.

 

I continue to gaze up

as I feel your warmth next to me,

I savour the passing

seconds of earth rotations

and breathe in.

I wonder,

while time ticks on,

of all the moments

that led here.

Window

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With a sideways glance

you longingly

for something new to happen

out of the stained window

 

or at least

for the world outside

to be a different shade of blue

a better shade

to fight off your darkness,

 

or a newer light

to enter your life,

that love that once was

needs rekindling.

 

You hug yourself tighter

into the chair

while longing eats away

and the record player

stops playing your favourite song.

Shell

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As the dust settles in

to cracks

that were only drearily taped over,

the shell starts to look

a fraction of what it was

 

yet it is still flimsy

held together

but the tape won’t last forever.

 

When the light of the world

shines on the weary shell,

it’s clear the discolour

won’t fade

after too long,

 

and all that’s left

will simply wash away.