By Scott Bailey © 2016
Water traces curves
Of showered, moist skin, fingers
Follow down to play
Trace
Category: Poetry
Buff
By Scott Bailey © 2017
Buff is a box
An almost fraternity
They try to squeeze you in
At any cost.
Some of us
Obviously won’t fit
So are discarded
Straight away
We are the ones
To watch
We are the ones
That bring the change
We are the ones
To fear
Trading spaces
In response to Scott’s Daily Prompt, Trading spaces
To be another Would it bring wisdom Or confusion Would it destroy Our sense of selves Or broaden it
Detonations
By Scott Bailey © 2017
Magical detonations
Stars dying
Dust flying
Seeding us
Not all explosions
Bring death
Tears
In response to Scott’s Daily Prompt, Happy Happy joy joy
Tears of joy They warmed my cheeks When you first smiled at me My son These days Teardrops are frozen With a thousand Fears
Judgement Day
In response to Scott’s Daily Prompt, Judgement Day
Perhaps Today's leaders Don't fear Judgement They know There will be No one left to judge Them
Spiral
In response to Scott’s Daily Prompt, Deja Vu
History repeats Only more intense It's not a cycle It's a spiral Down to doom
Memories
By Scott Bailey © 2017
Sunlight pleases him
Teases him with memories
Blotting out real life
Old
By Scott Bailey © 2017
I am nothing to behold
I am weak and I am old
My mind has given up
My body
Was always a schlup
Now should come the switch
The uplifting twist in the tail
But my mind has given up
And once again I fail
Let It All Out
By Scott Bailey © 2017
This is is age
Of SHOUT first
Ask questions later
Of passion
Without pause
On consequences
With no apparent cause
Denial
Blame
Anger
Just think
A Dream I have
In response to Scott’s Daily Prompt, Idyllic
A well kept garden A hidden nook at the edge By a stream Overlooking a valley I sit and write It is a dream I have
Bruised
By Scott Bailey © 2013
He would never see his son again.
Unless…
Unless he went made it through today. Found the strength from somewhere. Put aside his pain.
The trauma his son had suffered had not been at his hands. Logically there was no responsibility for it on his shoulders.
Logic was a weak fence against raw emotion. Emotion that told him that he had failed as a father, that the protection he was supposed to give had been lacking, just that once.
Nobody agreed with him.
That made no difference.
So, he would not compound failure with failure. This was his last chance. He would take it.
He had tried all other avenues. Therapy, prayer, medication. Nothing worked, Yet what it had done was show him the way. It had made clear the path he needed to tread.
So he took a deep breath and rose from his seat. He nodded to the doctor signalling his readiness. The doctor frowned but kept his piece. He opened the door and let him enter his son’s room.
The room was sparse, clinical. His son lay curled on top of the bedsheets, motionless. Awake but unresponsive. He did not look up or acknowledge his father’s entrance.
There was a small bedside table to the left of the bed on which sat a plastic beaker of water. The bed was positioned by the window. Sunlight tried to make an impression on the coldness of the room but failed. The only other furniture was a white chest of drawers and some empty white bookshelves.
Then there were the books.
The books, many many books, that should have rested on the shelves or strewn on the floor. An impressive collection for one so young.
They hung impossibly in the air.
He sighed. He knew what came next. It had all become familiar to him. This time though he did not avoid it. He did not flinch or try to defend himself. This time he smiled at his son.
The books flew at him. As if thrown by immense strength and anger. The hard spines whacked into his flesh like dull nails. Again and again and again. Raining pain upon his body. The books that hit him fell to the ground limply, twitched like dying flies, then were suddenly whisked up and flung again.
There was no let-up.
He could feel his body being pummelled into a bloody bruised mess. But he took it. Stood calmly, raised his arms towards his son and kept smiling. Gave all he had left to him – gave him his unconditional love. Took the punishment not meant for him.
The books whirled faster as the rage grew. Like a tornado of leather and card, they descended on him, pounded him. The pain passed over what was bearable to no longer being processable – so he no longer felt it. He knew he would not last much longer – if this continued his body would fail him. Darkness crept inwards along the edges of his eyes. He kept smiling, locked his legs and stood, arms out.
The whirl became a darkness that was trying to beat his flesh from his bones. He felt like the bones themselves were splintering beneath.
Then it stopped.
Suddenly all the books fell to the floor. Sunlight sprang into the room as if a lock had burst.
His son looked up and held out his arms for his father.
Competition
In response to Scott’s Daily Prompt, Competition
Stats
And myself
These are my competitors
When did the stats
Creep in?
Catapults and Boiled Sweets
By Scott Bailey © 2017
Catapults and boiled sweets
Sailing boats and jam jars
Watching tadpoles
Playing in the woods
Hunting newts
Swings and roundabouts
Wistful thinking
For the days
That never were
Roots
In response to Scott’s Daily Prompt, Local flavour
Here my roots are deep
I am nourished
I can reach out to the world
I don't need to go there
The Tip of the Flame
By Scott Bailey © 2015
The glint in the dark
From the deep of the cave
The thirst that draws
The primitive out
Out from the dark
Out from the safe
Into the harsh
Changes of life
Leaping from age to age
The fire that burns inside
Connecting us over time
To the fires that have passed
Every ancestor who held it
Was a winner in their life
Success upon success
And you are the tip of that peak
Alone
In response to Scott’s Daily Prompt, Stranded
All alone Stranger in a strange land But alive Next step Taken in fear? Or as a chance To start again
Holding Hands
By Scott Bailey © 2016
Tiny, warm, fragile
Fingers tightly holding mine
Treasured memories
Swords and Bows and Lore
In response to Scott’s Daily Prompt, Bedtime Stories
Swords and bows Chivalry and Justice Robbing to rich To pay the poor King’s who were not above the law And magic Ancient lore These were the stories That filled my head before bed What happened to those times?
Songbirds
By Scott Bailey © 2017
Miracle needed
To save the earth from its doom
Songbirds hail the dawn
In the night
In response to Scott’s Daily Prompt, INTJ
I like to walk Late at night In peaceful darkness Treading by starlight Comforted by silence Secured by solitude and peace The parties are overrated
Menagerie
In response to Scott’s Daily Prompt, Menagerie
Life these days Sometimes it seems Those who profess To lead our countries Are nothing but a menagerie of animals But animals do not seek war Or wealth
Impossible
In response to Scott’s Daily Prompt, Impossible
Life these days Seems impossible We have to remember These obstacles These weights and walls Were made by us We just have to find the strength To remove them
Bone of Contention
In response to Scott’s Daily Prompt, Bone of Contention
You fly the yellow and blue flag You welcome them with open arms This is all good It is the least we can do But you Left children to drown in terror Because they did not look like us Their bones Will contend you
Show and Tell
In response to Scott’s Daily Prompt, Show and Tell
Leaders It is time Words are not the measure Of your worth Show us
Comfort Zone
In response to Scott’s Daily Prompt, Comfort Zone
Fires rage But not here Bombs fall But not here People starve But not here Only when this comfort zone Is breached Will we really act But our ability to do so Will be inadeqaute
Adrift
By Scott Bailey © 2017
Adrift
Lost
Floating
Free
No goals
No direction
No chains
Just reflection
Sparkling stars
Burning sun
Gentle waves
Life undone
Free
Floating
Lost
Adrift
Sailing, Unfettered
By Scott Bailey © 2017
I am a ship
Crowded into the harbour wall
Anchored sound
And safe
But I can see the sea
Beyond the gap
Calling
Lulling
The storms come
The harbour shields
But still, I am tossed
And battered by
Uncaring waves
The chain is strained
The anchor holds
For now
So many storms I have seen
How many more
Before the chain breaks
Setting me free
Lost at sea
Sailing unfettered
Unmoored
Always Descending
By Scott Bailey © 2017
Always descending, never ascending.
Moving downwards, moving down.
I can’t get used to this feeling
Moving downwards, moving down.
Is it really like this? What are we doing?
Do we really want this?
Is this the thing to be?
The chains that pull the valves and the levers,
That drive the steam through pipes of dreams.
Dream worlds falling, morning calling,
Pull the chains on, shoulder the yoke.
Down to business. Down to labour.
Moving downwards, moving down.
I don’t like this, what am I doing?
I don’t really want this, what is to be?
Enter the shaft that takes us downwards.
The light is dimming as our dreams descend
Qualm
By Scott Bailey © 2017
Calm your qualms
It’s all change
It’s all good
Still
The trembling
Still
Collaboration
By Scott Bailey © 2017
Collaboration
Is knocked out of us
Systematically
In the school system
Filling us up instead
With competition
And greed
Perfecting us
As the ideal consumers
The perfect wheels in the
Machine
Those who hold the levers
Know
Collaboration
Could bring them down
If you liked this poem check out my novel – the theme of this poem is the central theme of the book – see below.
Mankind Limited
Trapped. In a world where everything is measured and control pervades every area of life, four people begin to break down. Instead, they break through the walls of deceit and propaganda and into a world of revolution.
Each, in their way, vow to overthrow the established order. They embark on a journey against the forces arraigned against them, forces of state and self-doubt.
Ultimately their paths converge on a dangerous road and the discovery of an ancient secret.
On one level this is a story about how different people react to the ever-growing and relentless pressure of everyday oppression. It explores their journeys as they are broken and rebuilt and investigates their modes and motivations for rebelling.
At another level, it is a critique on the darker side of capitalism and free markets and how that has driven us further and further away from the evolutionary advantage that gave us supremacy in the first place. It questions whether the human race has doomed itself or whether we still have the capacity to wrench ourselves from the track we have so tightly committed our society upon.
Read an excerpt here.
Available as
or hardback
from Amazon
U-Turns
In response to Scott’s Daily Prompt, 180 Degrees
Politicians Are vilified For their U-turns Personally I admire those Who can admit they are wrong And stay to deal With the consequences
Karma
By Scott Bailey © 2017
Let not victory
Excite you too much, karma
Has her eye on you
The Dragon
In response to Scott’s Daily Prompt, Silver screen
Look into the eyes of the dragon and despair.
The beast is released.
They thought it tame
Thought it was a game
Now
It's free
And they will pay the consequences
Of their fear
The quote, the first line of the poem, is from my favourite film, Excalibur by John Boorman, spoken by Merlin.
Official Hospitality
By Scott Bailey © 2017
Government Guide to Hospitality
We welcome you with open arms
If you can afford it
If not, go to hell
Erasure
In response to Scott’s Daily Prompt, Erasure
There are days
We wish to erase
But would we be the same
Without the pain
Without the shame
Still…
Ghostlife
In response to Scott’s Daily Prompt, Ghostwriter
I don't need a ghostwriter
I need a ghostwriter
Ghostparenter
Ghostlover
I need someone
To live my life
While I write
Lab Rats
By Scott Bailey © 2017
Lab rats
In a maze
Looking for
The exit
The Prize
The BIG CHEESE
Suppressing
Suspicion
Sure knowledge
The maze is it
The maze is all
Playlist
In response to Scott’s Daily Prompt, Playlist
The story of the impossible The impossible climb Save the last dance for me While the world burns around us I’m a believer But I cannot believe what I see Walk away Never really a choice Nights in white satin But no knights to defend
Ignoring the suggestion again and instead, I am taking the first five random songs from a mix that my music player gave me – which is a mix of my own chosen songs and others it suggests I might like. So the five titles I interspersed with my thoughts.
Pink
By Scott Bailey © 2017
Pink
A delicate shade
Of colour
Hijacked
By toy makers and marketers
To smash young minds
Into shape
And conformity
Give it back
To salmon
And cold autumn evenings
To flushed skin
And lips
And artists
And leather bound books
And bank notes
And fresh ink
Pink
VIP
In response to Scott’s Daily Prompt, VIP
My wife My life My every breath Together Forever Until death This is the way We need more today Love
Fantasy
In response to Scott’s Daily Prompt, Fantasy
Looking after their friends Interests It’s what they excel at Imagining them being able to cope beyond that Is just fantasy Welcome to your government
Glory Days
By Scott Bailey © 2013
So the soldier walks alone
beneath the
starry night
He has no aim but distance
from the bloody fight
But the war it still pursues him
snapping at his heels
He slips into the forest deep
beyond those broken hills
O glory days
Those glory days
They’ve shattered
and they fade
They only left a rumour
A shadow
where they laid
So the sword is silenced
with a deep and lasting chill
In his heart, the war goes on
the beating never still
Behind the hallowed orders
that laid so many low
Is revealed the empty truth
the sickest, cruellest blow
O glory days
Those glory days
They’re gone
they never were
So the soldier walks away
from guilt
that he defers
Seven Days
In response to Scott’s Daily Prompt, Seven Days
In only seven days The world was turned upside down The lovers of peace Watched it drain away The shadow looms The wall is too high
The Lonely Tree
By Scott Bailey © 2016
The lonely tree
Stood atop the blasted hill
Stark
Barren branches snatching
Rays from a mist-shrouded sun
Every now and then
Upon an errant breeze
Flits a weary bird
Resting one more time
On its final flight
Then falls
All around the roots
Dead birds and ash
Giving meager succour
To the lonely tree
One day
From that blood-soaked soil
This tree’s seed will rise
Green will conquer grey
Once more
But too late
For this final witness
Of our fall
#ClimateStrike
Screaming
In response to Scott’s Daily Prompt, Grown up
In our depths There is a repressed scream Distant Held back Leaking through As stress As inexplicable grief As depression But what that scream really is Is the child inside Yearning for escape
Sonnet for our Times
By Scott Bailey © 2013
So it seems to me that beyond the news
Beyond the web of the media spin
There are places still where the only views
Are battlegrounds full of unearthly din
I see the most pious places burning
Where the holy words still hold high accord
Where simple souls for peace are still yearning
The peace that those holy words won’t afford
Yet here where reason and science abound
We live comfy lives secure in our ways
No bombs rain down on our manicured ground
There is no revolt, no passion ablaze
There’s something wrong with this picture I see
Is it really this way, can you tell me?
Perspective
In response to Scott’s Daily Prompt, Perspective
Some say they are liberators
Others say they invaders
This conflict dominates the news
But the only view that counts
Is the victims
No o’s
In response to Scott’s Daily Prompt, Twenty Five
The blackbird perches High in the silver elm tree The wind tests the trunk
A quick one – a haiku written without the letter o.
Planet of the Savages
In response to Scott’s Daily Prompt, No Thanks
Visitors from the stars Passing by Would be appalled And leave well alone Abandon us As the hopeless savages we are
Scott Andrew Bailey - Author 