All around me
Lies
The ruins of young
Dreams
Away from me hope
Flies
Bursting at the
Seams
So where to go
Now
The truth has been
Exposed
When you don’t know
How
To let go what you
Supposed
Find a new path to
Walk
Step up to the
Task
Start the do and stop the
Talk
Start the make and stop the
Ask
Man up and face the
Truth
You’ve faced worse and
Survived
You’re longer in the tooth
Time to come
Alive
Originally published in A Spring of Dreams
Speaker throbs with bass
Notes leap higher and higher
Feedback thrills the crowd
The purr of the projector
Warm popcorn scent
Dust motes dancing in the light
Deep, dusty heavy red drapes
Mumbles and fumbles in the shadows
Hand brushing hand by chance
Close, sweet breath and perfume
The excitement of the old silver screen
Originally published in A Spring of Dreams
Worn out, knackered, done
A brimful of boxy fun
In old Legoland
Originally published in A Spring of Dreams
Behold the great eye
Watching through the trees, maybe
Just a butterfly
Dancing with my wife,
last week the telegraph came:
Coughs ring round the trench.
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Three hundred and sixty-five poems in all shapes and sizes, sprung from dreams and emotion. Published day after day for a year. There are haiku, sonnets, katauta, lanturnes and many other forms – including free form. The moods are as varied as the forms and often reflect my mood on the day. There is sadness and grief, joy and love.
If nothing else – these can provide a small moment in everyone’s stressful lives to stop and contemplate the world in a different way.
I’m fresh out of spring
Beyond the long summer days
Winter is coming
Blue eyes turned purple
Deep purple and very still
Watching all my life
Originally published in A Spring of Dreams
From the purple eye of death
The last exhaled breath
Comes an aweful doom
And darkness starts to loom
It dims the roads once bright
Quenches golden light
Sends tremors through the land
Like my trembling hand
Trembling on the key
That sets the danger free
Releasing purging fire
Born from grief and ire
Fear will bring the dark
And there is no lighted ark
So hide your fears away
Until the final day
Sparrow, sparrow in my way.
Briefly tell your tale today.
Tell me if my love is dead.
Do I waste the tears I shed?
Briefly, now I’ll tell my tale.
Pray your courage does not fail.
You do not waste the tears you shed.
Alas I say, your love is dead.
A sharp, cold sword did spill her blood.
She tried to stem an angry flood.
But peace that day she could not win.
So fearful war will begin.
Thank you bird for being true.
Nothing’s left for me to do.
To take up arms and pursue strife.
Slay the spoilers of my life.
I bid you, sir, think awhile.
Turn from this dark path so vile.
Listen to my humble song.
Step not where your lover’s gone.
Just a simple bird am I
But far above this land I fly.
And see its beauty spread below.
See ahead, where you might go.
Lay down your sword with forgiving heart.
Do not tear your land apart.
Still your rage and vengeance cease.
Follow rather a path of peace.
Humble bird I hear your song.
But my love is dead and gone.
So I raise my sword today.
And will make those killers pay.
The enemies that broke my heart.
And now have torn the land apart.
Upon their heads is all this blood.
For I must release the flood.
Then sir, I shall shed a tear.
For the future I do not fear.
Yet for now I swiftly go.
To make way for the crow.
Originally published in A Spring of Dreams
Silk slides on the breeze
Meets the flow of sharpened steel
Leaves a perfect tear
The meteor dares
To kiss the flames of the sun
Then slingshots away
Silver twines
intricate wires
thin and delicate
stretching from misty past
to infinite future
Each one a story
a thread of life
Twisting they come together
Winding, entwining
Further down the road
The twines form a rope
Stronger
Older
Wiser
Thicker
Stiffer
Originally published in A Spring of Dreams
Feel the space around
Everywhere that I can see
Breathe, release and live
Ring the bells of life
Every heartbeat tolling on
So jingle them well
Swifts swoop and dazzle
Aerobatics in the sky
Still, we watch in awe
Let’s play with our pets
Keep them happy and content
While we milk them dry
The Romans had it right
With their roads
Our roads wander
And wind
Avoiding stuff
Drawing closer to other stuff
But it’s all just stuff
We get lost
Never arrive
Or if we do
Too late
Too late
Perhaps into the future – a near-future – dark and disturbing and yet – so close. There, follow the fates of four people worn down and broken, angry with the system. Who break out of it, try to break it. Who question why they did and falter in their resolve only to be thrown back into the fray. Who discover the truth within themselves. A tale that questions rebellion and its motivations while railing at the oppression around us.
Or if not the future – then other worlds – supernatural ones – that impinge onto ours from – where? Some other dimension? The afterlife? Our own minds?
Where ever they come from – try these Thirteen Tales of the ghostly variety.
Or forget them all and take a moment each day – to read a little poetry and think. Three hundred and sixty-five poems in all shapes and sizes sprung from dreams and emotion. Published day after day for a year. There are haiku, sonnets, katauta, lanturnes and many other forms – including free form. The moods are as varied as the forms and often reflect my mood on the day. There is sadness and grief, joy and love and much more
Or take in something longer, deeper and more considered. Buck the trend for quick gratification and enjoy something epic.
The poems in this collection were written over a long period and for different purposes. They are varied but they are all long. And they all represent challenges. Each was a challenge to myself, to sustain a quality of writing for a long period and within tight constraints of form while still telling a story. They also represent and challenge to the reader. The throw off the pressure of everyday life, the pressure to hurry, hurry, hurry to take the time to read something, absorb it over time.
Such effort needs reward, these poems should not be a one-time quick fix. If the reader is going to put that effort in then there should be a payoff, they should be able to continue to get something from it afterwards. Whether that be from contemplation of what they have digested or from revisiting, rereading and seeing things they missed the first time around. So the final challenge to me was to provide this depth of content – not just quantity.
Memorise
All the sighs
Every loving glance
And long slow dance
Hold them tight
As we approach the night
Sanitise
Then fill with lies
Squeeze out the dreams
With mindless streams
Of celebs and fear
Until no one is here
Realise
And cherish the wise
Thoughts that flow
Before they go
Into the night
So hold them tight
Characterise
Categorise
Into a box
And cattle stocks
To milk and drain
To strike the brain
Live your dreams
For our revenue streams
Complete the bucket list
No source to be missed
Hold on to the light
For our gold so bright
No rhyme or reason
Bad luck keeps on reigning down
Good luck’s hard to find
The sun reaches out
And excites the northern sky
A watcher’s pleasure
Resting on the coast
The soothing sounds of the sea
Fill this empty shell
Hope holds back the tide
Stays the shifting golden sand
Thin mist arises
Spring showers cascade
The blackbird enjoys the hour
Worms join the party
Keys can lock and jangle
Hold us safe and secure
Take away liberty or open up the doors
And the doors they can open….
Silver is the primary key
The opens up our home
We do have gold but is worn
From use and years and time
Some keys are rows of black and white
And open up our hearts
With wondrous weaving melodies
Soaring sounds from worlds apart
But the keys that give me magic
And warm my ailing heart
Dance beneath my fingertips
As dreams flow from my art
Originally published in A Spring of Dreams
A fitful candle
The scratching
Of a quill
On parchment old
A chill
A shiver
A creeping smile
A glint
Ghosts
Are born
Originally published in A Spring of Dreams
I stand on the shore
Unsure. Intimidated
By the great green deep
Also inspired by an old and longer poem -> here
In the red embers
The wake of the forest fire
Fresh green shoots arise
Darkness rules the deep
Bio-luminescence shines
Nature wins the day
From the shallows to the icy deep
Where dolphins dance and starfish sleep
Through swaying kale and shifting sand
Feel the touch of an oily hand
Where lights speed by in total dark
Where rest many a sunken ark
Where through the kale fish do slip
Feel a cold and choking grip
Where bubbles rise and currents surge
Where waters from the heavens merge
Where weight does crush both bones and rock
Feel the iron fingers lock
And here my heart it swells and roars
From roiling dark to shattered shores
And I will rise with fury’s might
And crush the hand that picks this fight
So fear the shark with jaws that rend
And the mighty swell that shall bend
Every fence and dam and wall
And drown the rumble of cliffs that fall
And when the hand has done its deed
You will curse your dirty seed
And then, at last, you will see
How small you are beside the sea
Originally published in A Spring of Dreams
A distant star blooms
Shining in the ancient night
Showers of starlight
The warm sun colours
The world like dancing daisies
Spread between the graves
Stereotypical headlines
Reactions just the same
Ample opportunity
To apportion blame
Night time is for thinking
Sorting truth from lies
But in the sunshine morn
Dreams just fly
So it goes
Originally published in A Spring of Dreams
The screech of an owl
Clouds like scratches on the moon
Mouse darts warily
For “Ronovan Writes #Weekly #Haiku #Poetry Prompt #Challenge 369 SCRATCH and Screech.”
Droplet spins midair
Shimmering graceful free fall
Dashed against grey stone
Kerching! Kerchang! Pow!
Our economy picks up!
Soul still desolate.
Three hundred and sixty-five poems in all shapes and sizes, sprung from dreams and emotion. Published day after day for a year. There are haiku, sonnets, katauta, lanturnes and many other forms – including free form. The moods are as varied as the forms and often reflect my mood on the day. There is sadness and grief, joy and love.
If nothing else – these can provide a small moment in everyone’s stressful lives to stop and contemplate the world in a different way.
Tower of stone
Where hearts are joined
Names are blessed
Flesh is laid to rest
Still
The tower is stone
And cannot
Learn to love
Originally published in A Spring of Dreams
Span of stone
Taking some to work
Others home
As it has
For centuries
Others watch
Originally published in A Spring of Dreams
A white wedge
Spotted in the corner
Of a run-down shop
Off the track
Joyful memories swell
And from the past
I hear the clattering
Of a metal bowl
Filling with a quarter pound
Of sherbet lemons
Originally published in A Spring of Dreams
Hot red and burnt orange
The peppers in the pot
Ready to be plucked
And in the dinner popped
Originally published in A Spring of Dreams
Whatever happened to gauges
Haven’t seen one for ages
It gives a feeling of age
Does a good gauge
Engineering solid and good
Surrounded by brass or set in wood
The odd jet of steam venting
What were they all preventing
Originally published in A Spring of Dreams
On wing
Defying the earth
Submitting to the wind
And trust
Soaring joy
Freedom high
Oh for wings
For real
Originally published in A Spring of Dreams
Bluebell path
Goes to the heart
A potent sign
Of where I am
Where I have been
My roots are theirs
We share soil
And shall again
Originally published in A Spring of Dreams
Splosh
And a little erosion
Helped on
By little hands
Joy is free
Originally published in A Spring of Dreams
Living to please
Rather than to be
More on show
Than on the prowl
But in the beating
Heart and genes
Waits the hunter
Originally published in A Spring of Dreams
Staring down the barrel
Of everyday life
Wondering how long the fuse will last
Tensing to dodge
The final bang
Never can
Originally published in A Spring of Dreams
With my lens
Capture the beach
Only to find
A watcher
Staring back
What does it see
The watcher from the sea
Originally published in A Spring of Dreams
Shining steel
A grill like a grin
Of the shark that killed you
Originally published in A Spring of Dreams
Scott Andrew Bailey - Author 