Beacons

I need something to get me back to you
when it seems that every call drifts within an echo;
when language finds the limit
and my heartbeats will pulse a chill.
I don’t want to lose you to the darkness of distance
but lessons I’ve leaned tell me silence is wisdom
so voiceless I must project my signal.

Lanterns in the sky
or a phoenix in flight.
I beg you to look up,
please just see the light.

The ocean is the world’s greatest thief
and you were no exception as you rode upon its wings.
I guess I was just borrowing you from the sea.
What’s taken’s now returned but don’t think I don’t believe
that you could see about the mountains and trees.

A single fleeting flare,
the moon’s dappled glare
flickering bright in the sky,
is seen from everywhere/
They’re asking you that question;
whether you could still care.

I’ve been burned by my beacons before.
I left them by the line of my shore.
I waited for the crest of each wave.
hoping it would return you again.

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Black Coffee

Like the coffee grounds you brewed too bitter
your words hit me like a chill within winter;
I could only stop and stare.
The morning sun couldn’t fail to shimmer
but afternoon came and the sky grew dinner;
I couldn’t bring myself to care.

And so I ask you now
as you raise the cup to your face.
Is it hot enough for you?
Was it brewed just to your taste?

The steam comes from the press every morning
like I sigh when the inevitable’s dawning.
You say it’s long in the making,
I say the coffee’s gone cold.
We know this tale’s been told;
it’s not the only thing.

My eyes meet the mist on the lake
and I am wondering what it would take
to pass through the gauze.
The surface shows a reflective veneer,
still until it meets a single tear
taken from a heart unthawed.

The kettle reaches a boil
but I can’t even hear.
The heat is just too much
and the way out is clear.

The cupboard doors opens to china in shards,
fragments of a life that grew too hard;
I should have realised before,
but I wore steam like a veil,
never thinking I’d fail;
I was drifting through false hope.

When you began to leave your mugs unwashed,
and your daylight caffeine went untouched,
perhaps then the illusions faltered,
perhaps my mind had been unfiltered;
but all I could see was that morning light,
now all I can taste is the dawning fight.

Now I make my coffee so weak,
fill it with sugar and with cream.
I don’t want to taste you anymore;
not since you walked out of that door.

Idioglossia

Speak to me, for you’re the only one who could.
My wavelength bleeds into your spectrum
and wordlessly I send for you to receive.
These signals are flares beneath night’s facade.

I look into your eyes and echo your gaze;
manifestations of light dancing on your face.

I turn the shadows into sound
and sing as you look around;
the response is harmony
shared sonic symmetry.
This is the chant that shall abound.

Seeds into flowers planted from our tongues;
a chorus of petals painting cathedral walls.
Language is a prison and our voices are the key
but straightjacket alphabets cloak our thoughts within.

Music from our minds can propel us through the breeze,
we’ll thread the calling hymn from within our reverie.

I see your smile without the gift of sight;
register a presence with no spark of light.
I listen with a sixth sense,
the silence breeding suspense,
before I’m awash with your aural might.

Close your eyes and lay back on the ground,
reject every sense except incoming sound.
I will call out for you into the open air,
sing me notes of pleasure, fervour and despair.

Reverberating from me; a promise to always care.

Don’t Bring My Body Home

One thousand worlds stare down;
we don’t really matter at all.
But in that moment I could have sworn
we were a microcosm of colliding stars.

Crash against the rocks, exist again as a sea mist.
Pull me from the stream, the water then shall have me.
Don’t bring my body home.

Passing through the centuries;
this Earth imbibes all time.
The ground on which we stand
is saturated with moments.
We don’t really matter at all,
but matter’s not on my mind.

Stand beneath the sun, stain shadows on the stone.
Wrap me up in arms, I shall burn within my blood.
Don’t bring my body home.

Transcending all but time
was a world that mattered not.

Cruelest Hope

This is pathetic. I am pathetic. I am in love.

Like an angel perched atop the greyest cloud,
my heart in it’s hands to which I have avowed.
I promised not to long for joy and love,
lest I displease the holy Gods above.

The scales of judgement offer me no mercy.
My mind is clouded and my view is dirty,
but when I promised that I’d be good and true,
I never anticipated falling in love with you.

Now it’s a story repeated many times before;
we never know what these feelings were for.
But it’s a hot desire replete with adoration
with the underlying coolness of admiration.

Can you tell that I tremble when I talk to you,
balk with humiliation when you leave the room.
But I’m left with such a deceitful possibility
that you might be invested in it for me.
These thoughts are treated with incredulity
but every single day I still hope that you’ll see
that I’m pining so pathetic and obviously,
for you.

A Harlot’s Kiss Off

This was something crafted from anger and accusations. Nevertheless it is written, it is my own work, and I will post it here.

The venom with which you coat your arrows,
only serves to corrode their steel points.
You fire from your craven oak bow,
only for me to feel not one thing at all.
You’ve lost what once consumed your time;
you’ve nothing left to silence the singing seconds,
so you turn to your simmering acid,
well I’m gonna turn to a quivering lip.
You’re not a dove with the olive branch,
you’re more a vulture cloaked in white satin.
Whilst I am coaxing the roses to bloom,
my artifice delivers me ascendancy.
As you give oath to your inquisition,
your indolence hands you to dependency.

On A Voyage

It’s so rare that I am actually lighthearted when writing poetry. I’m guessing this is because topics that befit lighthearted writing are also harder to really be excited or inspired by. But then thinking, this topic technically carries a very significant measure of gravity, it also just brings a lot of happiness, so why not write in a jovial manner?

I’m living with a curious mind,

fuelled by the fact that you are mine.

Intrigue in the world of you and I,

to be discovered within time.

—-

Baby this is our era,

and it’s still very new.

We’ve got so much to learn

in the future of me and you.

Like those that swim the ocean,

there’s so much more depth.

Honey, you’ve seen a little,

now come and see the rest!

—-

I’m living with a curious mind,

fuelled by the fact that you are mine.

Intrigue in the world of you and I,

to be discovered within time.

We are on a voyage, oh, you and I.

—-

We’ve got a vast sea to sail,

and love will be our boat.

If you hold on to my hand,

you and I shall float.

When we’re done in the water,

the sky shall be our ground.

Propelling us through the blue,

and flying through the clouds.

—-

I’m living with a curious mind,

fuelled by the fact that you are mine.

Intrigue in the world of you and I,

to be discovered within time.

We are on a voyage, oh, you and I.

On a journey til’ the end of time.

—-

I’d walk barefoot on desert sands,

if it meant I could hold your hand.

I’d swim the icy seas,

directed by the breeze,

if I’d wash ashore,

somewhere near to you.

The Man In The Sky

I wrote this about imagining the face of my boyfriend, almost projected into the sky. Even though he was far away, he could be behind the clouds and I could feel as if he were there; I could just look up and find him.

And it looks like a face,
in the centre of the sky.
Through a translucent space,
in the middle of the night.

You reign as cosmic lord,
in the valley of the dark.
Through a nebula fjord,
you’ve shot me that spark.

Through the prism you gleam,
with the spectrum you throw.
Enigmatic you seem,
you are the colours aglow.

Giving rise to the morning,
with clouds of snow lace.
For a love that is dawning,
over the wash of the waves.

I Came With The Tides

This a poem that I wrote for my boyfriend who lives over 3,000 miles away, across the ocean in the USA. It describes me walking as far as I could to get him and ‘coming with the tides’ in order to break the barriers between us.

Crawling over burning dunes
the only way that I’ll reach you
for I know the promise holds true.
Stronger than all of Jupiter’s storms,
surpassing the heat of our Earth’s core
a cause greater than Hellenic wars.

Regards sent through the air,
oh I know we’ll make it there.

The desert couldn’t blister
and the sun couldn’t shimmer
with the potency that I hold.
The sands will scorch my feet
and the oasis that I meet
could not steal my course.
Your heart became my horse.
A crusade of infatuation

with my zeal of admiration
manifests a mystical inspiration.
I’ll plunge into the sea of fire
to retrieve my fair desire
for our star does ascend higher.

My feet acquaint the ground
for it’s your love that I have found.

Our days together;
plundered!
Crashing in my soul;
thunder!
Oh cruellest of the fates
she who wove us asunder.
So I am of half a mind
to cast that harpy from her kind
and banish her to the end of time.
So, I am yours.
Hence, you are mine.

Into the orbit comes a new moon,
bringing promise, we’ll be together soon.

The desert couldn’t blister,
and the sun couldn’t shimmer,
with the potency I hold.
The sands will scorch my feet,
and the oasis that I meet
could not steal my course.
Your heart became my horse.

With me comes ardour,
augmented by my trials.
The feelings that I harbour,
written through the miles.

Harbour And The Sea

Most of my poems are not auto-biographical, I usually find it easier to write about things that are separate to my own life, as I feel I can make better observations on the subjects. However, sometimes things just make you feel something so strongly that poetic expression just fizzles in your fingertips, and somehow, you find yourself writing. This is one of those occasions. I found out, a while back, that someone who I had been in a relationship with for almost a year and a half had been in a relationship with someone else for the last few months of it. I was told this by the person that he had been seeing, only for it to be confirmed by him. I was angry, but I guess I directed it towards paper and ink, rather than towards him. Perhaps I should be thankful for this.

You set to sail in uncharted waters,

whilst remaining anchored to the shore.

Always finding comfort in the harbour,

but always yearning for something more.

—-

There was a lighthouse, a beacon on the sand;

You used to withdraw back to it’s light.

Some days you let the wind take you out,

your earthbound candle grew out of sight.

—-

You wanted to traverse the realms of water,

but you were pulled back by a chain.

The cerulean naiads enticing you,

calling you and whispering your name.

—-

As you indulged in the arms of a siren,

a haze was cast over your eyes.

The seducer had masked your vision,

waiting for the harbour’s flame to die.

—-

Now the light has cares only for cobwebs.

The flame that flickered grew into a storm,

it raged like it was of dragon breath.

Now the harbour would be no more.

—-

As for the sailor, he’s lost at sea.

No thoughts of guilt would cross his mind.

He could only see a horizon ahead,

no thoughts for the one left behind.