If life were light
shone through a prism
We would see the parts of our lives
illuminated on the wall
From the red of our passions
to the blue of our melancholy
And all the shades in between
The wonderful rainbow of life
Coloured bricks
Red, blue, yellow, white
and many more.
Many shapes
Many sizes
No limits
Many surprises.
Build a fire engine,
A house, a school,
A lake, a park, a city, a town.
A space station and spaceships and an alien host.
A castle,a bridge a knight and a ghost!
All this and more build it all
And never ever build up your wall.
Wherever words roam
Over fantastical lands
The heart rests at home.
Sometimes the things we are due
do not arrive
Sometimes that precious parcel
is lost
Sometimes the blows
are more than we think
we can survive
But we do
It is the ancient sadness
of humanity
Happiness has such
frailty
The bankers, the police and politicians
laugh at us in their vaults of gold.
Shock and anger and bile!
Such arrogance we behold.
Headlines! Headlines! Headlines!
We MUST have an inquiry!
Heads must rolls, we must have scalps!
Weeks and weeks of fury.
We will not suffer the injustice any longer!
Oh! There’s a royal baby due.
Wait! What? Conkers have been banned!
It’s health and safety gone mad!
What can you do with a shrug?
Old light from the past
Is still illumination
Wisdom echoes far
Why aren’t we railing?
Why aren’t we mad?
Why do we sit in silence?
In apathy so sad.
Is the sickle blunted?
The hammer dropped and cracked?
Has the guillotine lost its edge?
Has liberty backtracked?
The peasants have moved on
From field to factory to desk.
Is it beautiful progress
Or captivity grotesque
So day after day
after day after day.
We struggle and toil
No time to play.
We hand over our freedom
We hand over our cash.
While the fat cats sleep
on their growing stash.
Where is the spirit of liberty?
The hero in the square?
The lone horse trodden woman.
Defanged are those who care.
Get the previous ones herehttp://wp.me/P3kG6h-bb
Silk sliding
Fingertips brushing
Lightly
Warm breath
Close
Tingling
Lips shining
Eyes widening
Hush
Moist close
Pulsing closer
Moving
They didn’t know.
Or didn’t care.
That corporate giants
Weren’t paying their share.
If they didn’t know.
Incompetence screams.
If they didn’t care
Corruption streams.
Next month. Something else.
To make us all forget.
How many times do we take this?
Is their more give in us yet?
Today’s poem of the day is another old one I have reworked. I chose this as I had read one on a blog I follow that evoked memories of this to me. (That one is here http://reowr.wordpress.com/2013/06/18/when-galaxies-cry/ ) There also seem to be a few more with similar theme and imagery on today. The other reason is that I wanted to post something a bit more upbeat and positive than I had been putting up lately.
If I
Cease to exist
Will my
Precious dreams chase after my soul?
If I
breathe my last breath
Will my
Endless hopes continue to roll?
If I
Fly up from the earth
And
Spiral up to the bright dancing stars
Will I
Find my way back
Or
Make my home where galaxies are?
Hard to exist
Back to back to the hammer of flesh.
Gasping for breath
Tried escape from this strangling mesh.
Tied hard to the earth
Brought to ground by invisible hands.
If I
Find my way back
Will I
Find my house fallen in sands?
Shout to exist
Drink the sun and swallow the air!
Savour the breath
Turn the corner and take up the dare!
Stand firm on the earth
And
Walk the roads under the stars.
We’ll find our way back
While our dreams fly where galaxies are.
Broken down.
Watching everyone speed by.
Rushing.
Hearing the gusts of wind.
Smelling the broken grass.
Feeling the breeze on my cheeks.
Because I that’s all I can do while I wait.
This is an old one I brushed off and reworked. This one’s for my dad.
With his faithful tartan cap, its bobble flicking black dust into the air.
Holding in that tousled and already greying hair.
With half hundred weight of coal to deliver down the street.
With his smiling green lorry, tiny windows at his feet.
Walking up the narrow path, a smile upon his face.
Care worn lines deep with dust, crisscrossed like living lace.
Bringing warmth to many homes and our own.
Now the coal has gone but the lines remain beneath silver hair.
Hands hard and black with oil and years of toil and loyal care.
Has no wealth and all wealth one could want within his soft brick walls.
Always ready to respond to our lost and stranded calls.
Tall as a tree and as strong against every withering storm.
A mere spanner in his hands his wonders to perform.
Humble, with every reason to be mighty proud.
With pride these words should be read to all aloud.
Swirling in the mists of history
Mystic figures whirl
Dark silhouettes of dangerous men
Stride along with pride.A flash of a sword, the chord of a song
the clash of a shield, the beat of a drum.
The roar of a fire in a welcome hearth.
The hearty sound of the comrades’ laugh.
The scent of a feast, the warmth of the soup.
The strength of the beams over the hall
The smoke rising up into the straw
All of this and still there’s more.
A cold wind blows, the mist rolls back,
To show the cold hard facts.
Bended blade of grass
Bows in the summer twilight
A warm journey home.
Tired and worn out so
Going to sleep to dream of
Summer coming soon.
I make cars
I always have
As did my father.Prestige cars.
The most famous in the world
Made with pride.
Made with precision.
Made to last.
To shine and glide!
Every working day.
All the working hours.
My trusty hands create.
I may be steeped in habit
Tradition and old ways
But I trust in my own fate.
I support my family.
I support the plant.
And I support the land.
I pay my way my dues
while on my shoulders weighs
the burden that I support.
After all these years of toil
All my many dues.
Imagine my surprise, my boss.
I have given more than you!
The gulf between us grows and grows.
I wonder were we ever close?
Is it a myth we tell ourselves?
To give us false kudos.
One looks on one with envy
the other with disdain
But neither can leave the contract
for nothing is to gain?
Still the gulf grows wider
bridges tumble down
Yet the ties are tighter
Deeper runs the frown
Round and round this story goes
Will it ever end
The futile fixing of a problem
That will never end
So we have to ask ourselves
For richer? For poorer?
She is taken for granted by most
Loved by some, hated by others.
She gives some what they want
others are denied.
Some can’t believe their luck
Others demand too much.
She keeps alive the memory of those long gone.
Brings music from the past
Brings together worlds apart
Or breaks them down
Passes on words of love and hate
Over time and space.
The famous thank her
for everything she brings them
Other view her with jealousy
as she gives what they cannot.
She’ll save or kill her lovers
But she is here to stay.
The news is not normal
We must remember that.
At home with my family, safe on the sofa.
Working nine to five to bring home the bread
Struggling with bill but food on the table
Enjoying friendships and family
Days out, nights in, peace, leisure, entertainment
Warmth, safety, security and food.
Let us remember that this is our normal
that many do not enjoy.
For them the every day, the normal is
hunger, poverty, murder and rape.
The news is not normal
but we are the exception.
What can we do in the face of desolation?
Get the previous ones here
Screaming red white and blue,
Soaring in the clouds.
Thundering over the shore.
Red Arrows Roar!
Shouting into the hole that is the whole
Nothing back.
Raging against the system that is all
Nothing changed.
Staring at the box with the box.
Nothing gained.
Justifying every move you make
Not explained.
Time to change.
Flesh and bones and genes.
Is that me?
Shirt and tie and jeans
Is that me?
The places I have been.
Is that me?
The words of praise, the blame that cuts
Is that me?
The songs I loved, the books I have read,
The colours I paint, what I like in my bread.
Are these me?
The friends I love and miss,
That is me
The taste of beer and chat,
That is me
The love for my wife and sons,
That is me.
The song bursting in my lungs,
That is me
The stories in my head
That is me
The place where I grew up,
where I was wed,
where one son was named, the other laid to rest
That is me
My dreams that are out of reach
That is me.
Get the previous ones here
OK have a headache now. Can’t think so I am posting this one that has been in development over the last few days. Needs more work I know. And it frivolous. Who can spot the song its a play on?
Remember this forever
For it will set you free
Listen to you mother on
How it is to be,
If you want success my child
Stay upon the path
Don’t stray into the wild.
Be the same! Be the same.
All the world – loves the same.
Stand up tall, play it straight
And you’ll never end up late.
With mortarboard and diploma
You’ll rate with the great minds
If you become a doctor you’ll win great respect
Be a great composer and get more of it yet
Don’t become a poet that they will all forget
Be the same, be the same, be the same.
Be the same, be the same,
All the world – loves the same.
Tell it straight, tell it true,
No one will mess with you.
Bend the rules (when you can)
Make more profit for the man
A college education is a must I am sure
To give the frame of reference that you must endure
If you feel lost a job is the cure!
Be the same! Be the same! Be the same
Another attempt at haiku.
Dancing with my wife,
last week the telegraph came:
Coughs ring round the trench.
OK – so this one is on the same theme as yesterday. In fact this was the one I started with in my head yesterday – but it morphed into number 4. I wanted to develop it and see if it is better or not then the result I came up with yesterday. And maybe just to look at the same concept in two ways.
Footsteps on the dusky beach
Holes left by those gone by
Empty.
The tide turns, creeps back in
holes become pools
shining in the sunset
Peering in beyond my reflections
the shining water
teems with life
There are empty spaces
left as people move on,
of the spaces of places long gone,
of times gone by
There is a link between present and past
an energy, a potential,
strung between the memories gone
and the living yet to roll on
The link hums with the tension
and the empty spaces echo back the thrum
deep rich reverberation
layered on the past, the present, the future
Such is the music of life.
Scott Andrew Bailey - Author 