By Scott Bailey © 2013

Exhaustion seeps in
Draining away all my will
Where’s my little pill

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

By Scott Bailey © 2013

So we worry like old men
On the road to night again
Wondering what the dawn will bring
Will we hear the lonely blackbird sing
And then the heart beats a skip once more
as our dreams falter

Complex systems crowd our minds
Light penetrating through the blinds
Nowhere safe to settle down our thoughts
No reprise to high ethereal courts
And so we close our eyes to the blinding light
and slowly we falter

Solid waters chills our bones
Sitting in the orange cones
Going nowhere on this winding road
Never understanding the blinking code
So we ride on ignorance and bliss
and never alter

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

By Scott Bailey © 2013

We brave explorers together
Wearing imitation leather
And as silent as a feather
We toiled through the darkest weather onto our prize

Through mountains and valleys we walked
By tigers and lions were stalked
And as brave as we always talked
There came a time when we just baulked against the size

Of the hunger in our bellies
Off with our explorer wellies
Broke out the ice cream and jellies
And retreated to the telly’s noisy comfort

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

By Scott Bailey © 2013

The scarlet of fire
from a barrel
of a gun.
The scarlet of heat
from the blast
of a bomb.
The scarlet of rockets
arcing through
the air.
The scarlet of eyes
shot through
with fear.
The scarlet of fields
and memories of those
buried there.
The scarlet of blood
spilt without care
on brow and cheek.
This scarlet deep
so precious and deep
is of Mars.

The green of the forest
where animals play
without bounds.
The green of summer
and nature bursting
to be alive.
The green of shoots
born by birds
in clear skies.
The green of reeds
by river banks where
we sleep and dream.
The green of the sea
surrounding with safety
our precious land.
The green of fields
where people walk together
hand in hand.
This green so verdant
so desired and calm
is of Venus.

The silver of stars
darting here and there
with lightening speed.
The silver of water
tumbling in the sun
from land to land.
The silver of salt
crusted on the sails
bringing people close.
The silver of an aeroplane
shining in the air
letters written there.
The silver from the earth
delicately stretched and turned
wires spreading far.
The silver of a firework
broadcasting sparks of joy
to gathered friends.
This silver bright
wondrous and bright
is of Mercury.

The orange of sunrise
mighty and full of heart
bringing praise in singing.
The orange of a marigold
around which children dance
and parents’ hearts​ leap.
The orange of a drink
splashed down laughing throats
a thirst to quench.
The orange of a car
painted by a child
all wobbly and bright.
The orange of a paper
wrapped around a gift
unexpected surprise.
The orange of a mandarin
hanging in the tinsel
succulent and ripe.
This orange happy
bright and full of joy
is of Jupiter.

The yellow of an eye
weary, deep and wise,
heavy with rheum.
The yellow of a page
of a leather-bound book
heavy ancient tome.
The yellow of a contract
signed in years gone by
fulfilled with honour.
The yellow of a poster
faded in the sun
promises long forgotten.
The yellow of a leaf
discarded by the road
crumpled and dry.
The yellow of grass
scorched in the summer sun
toughened by the trial.
This yellow old
filled with wisdom and pain
is of Saturn.

The purple of a cloak
whose owner dazzles all
leaving them perplexed.
The purple of a cloth
on a table still
with artefacts old.
The purple of a box
with secrets held inside
only he may know.
The purple of a book
engraved with secret signs
full of ancient rites.
The purple of a smoke
that grants your heart’s desires
with forbidden fires.
The purple of time
between day and night
where fairies play.
This purple, magical
drenched with ancient lore
is of Uranus.

The blue of an evening sky
and strange signs in the air
for those who look.
The blue of pools
deep unchartered waters
with creatures strange.
The blue of visions
and misty wandering ghosts
speaking from the grave.
The blue of eyes
that hypnotise and gaze
into pasts unveiled.
The blue of lights
shining in the north
reflected in the ice.
The blue of sparks
floating in the air
in the woods.
this blue so mystical
beautifully unexplained
is of Neptune.

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

By Scott Bailey © 2013

Reverberating
Boom! Surf crashes on the shore
Golden sand twinkles

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

By Scott Bailey © 2013

My heart is racing
Not for love but for madness
It is pounding fast

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

By Scott Bailey © 2013

The hunter is hunted
Twisting between the trees
Turned into doe from nymph
Trailed by her lover’s bow
Tumbling through the forest
Two golden horns that shine
To rise into the skies

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

By Scott Bailey © 2014

Two men wake
Two men go to work
Kiss their children goodbye
Work
Earn their wages
Provide
Come home
Love their children
Make love to their wives
Sleep
One man sends the other
A bomb in a package
Nothing between these men
But a thin fence
And hate
Dressed up as ideology
As fight against injustice
As religion
As revenge
But it is nothing
But the empty
Hate
Of little men

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

By Scott Bailey © 2013

So many connections
So many lines
All taut and humming
Junctions and switches
A house of cards
Delicately balanced
Systems
Working to full capacity
One break from collapse
Such is life

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

By Scott Bailey © 2013

Marriage was forbidden
Mortal husband taken
Masked in a veil of shame
Must watch her husband’s pain
Most faint in the heavens
Marred by following love
Misty those lives above

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

By Scott Bailey © 2013

Archibald the Wizard
Is a very dodgy man.
He seeks out naughty snowstorms
And sends them to Japan.

He’d like to paint Picasso
Or Cézanne if he could.
He sends up purple smoke signs
From a tower in the wood.

He strums a harp a little
And bangs an old tin can.
Has Beaujolais on chips
According to the plan.

He strikes an unheard chord
In the hearts of all he sees.
But still he sends those snowflakes
Over oriental Seas.

Cross him at your peril
As many have found out.
Beneath his smoking jacket
Lies a sherry lout.

He doesn’t care for you or me
He doesn’t care at all.
He plots and schemes and gurgles.
Behind his wobbly wall.

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

By Scott Bailey © 2013

Mother of he who brought
Music up to the Gods
Malice turned to justice
Magic cascading from
Mother of the world storm
Mighty God of the earth
Must meet a mortal end.

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

By Scott Bailey © 2013

Ever shining bright spark
Equalizing her rage
Encompassing justice
Ever seeking revenge
Endless pain unanswered
Echoing from murder
Electra takes her aim

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

By Scott Bailey © 2013

Caressed by the wide sea
Corals catch the new child
Carry her to the shore
Colliding with bright fate
Climbing into the sky
Coronal light shines out
Cascading to the sea

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

By Scott Bailey © 2013

A nymph darts between trees
Afraid of the hunter
Always close behind her
Away she flees in haste
Another danger lurks
At her feet as she runs
A butterfly is born

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

By Scott Bailey © 2013

Flames flicker
Time ticks
Down
War draws
Nearer
For the quick
End of time
Draws near
Who will heal
The rifts?

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

By Scott Bailey © 2013

Crisis everyday
When did this start?
When will normality
Return
Is this the price
Of years of hard work
Maybe I should just sweep roads
Noble simplicity

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

By Scott Bailey © 2013

Clang, chip! clang chip! Clang chip! Blow.
Scratch, dip. Scratch, dip. Scratch, dip. Flow.
Block, press. Block press. Block, press. Squeeze.
Click, roll. Click, roll. Click, roll. Please.
Clackety clack. Clackety clack. Clackety clack. Slide.
Tip tap tap. Tip tap tap. Tip tap tap. Pride.
Stone to scroll to press to type to screen.
Where next the word?

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

By Scott Bailey © 2013

There was a young diver called laurel
Who spent her life in the coral
Of the men of the land
She dismissed them offhand
As she found them just far too amoral

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

By Scott Bailey © 2013

Tarns tributaries tumble down
heather cloaked hills
red-brown tufts twitching in the wind
Cold water, cold air, eagle riding the high winds
Wolves range over moors
Sheep shiver, shepherds huddle
Fire crackles, broth steams
Tarns tributaries tumble down
heather cloaked hills

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

www.scottandrewbailey.uk