All I Am

By Scott Bailey © 2014

A pillow, a rock,
A wage slave and a lover
Is this all I am

Image from Pixabay

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

Opium is not the only Drug

By Scott Bailey © 2014

The lord of darkness cometh
draped in shades of grey
So many tastes of opium
are available today
Opium is not the only drug
to while away the hours
So much poison sugar
before which reason cowers
For every palette there’s a taste
for every twisted dream
On endless shelves in endless dens
the merchandise does gleam
So the sellers sell us
down the river deep
To dream our dreams of sweet success
though we do not sleep
And while we dream on endlessly
the future will never bring
The day we rise up and in hand
to solve
anything
 

Image from Pixabay

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

Winter Winds

By Scott Bailey © 2014

My head is twirling
And whirling like winter winds
Against solid stone

Image from Pixabay

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

Sound Song

By Scott Bailey © 2013

Ho. Ah.
So, lah
Row far
LowGo shah
in kar
sar rah
sea

Hic ar tee, sec ar tee, el ar tee, ho
Billowing, willowing echoing deep
Dark shadows from afar

Image from Pixabay

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

Clouds

By Scott Bailey © 2016

Sunlight streams through clouds
Warm, cascading waterfalls
Dispelled by a breeze

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Teeth

By Scott Bailey © 2013

The cold reaches deep
Frozen icicles of time
Teeth in red-hot jaws

Image from Pixabay

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

Human Race

By Scott Bailey © 2013

So we draw to the close of another year
An arbitrary space of time
And to me only one thing is clear
That out of the minutes does climb
Despite all the doom and the pressure
Despite all my weakness and fails
No matter my railing at life
No matter my aches and my wails
I am loved by the people around me
My wife and my smiling son
If life is a human race
Then I concede I have won.

Image from Pixabay

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

A Day

By Scott Bailey © 2013

What good is a day
against infinity?
What good are muscles
against rock?
What good is a fence
against the flood?
What good is will
within a lock?

Somewhere there’s a key
the will open
The prison that holds fast
the will
The waters will part
The mountain will fall
Infinity will be
just a spark

Image from Pixabay

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

Angels

By Scott Bailey © 2013

Angels falling forever
Angels lost from the sky
Angels hearing truth
From those devils that lie

Image from Pixabay

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

Dumb

By Scott Bailey © 2013

What can we say then
That will make a difference
In a noisy world

Image from Pixabay

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

Deaf

By Scott Bailey © 2013

Deaf to me the world
My voice lost in the clamour
Will my life follow?

Image from Pixabay

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

One Small Heart

By Scott Bailey © 2013

For one small heart
Put aside the pride
The bruised ego
For another day
And be better

Photo by Rachel Bailey

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

Choices

By Scott Bailey © 2013

Choices, where are mine?
They seem to have slipped away
Somewhere down river

Image from Pixabay

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

Hands

By Scott Bailey © 2013

Helping hands
Supporting
Cradling
Shoring up
Pat on the back
Giving
Strong
Holding
Controlling

Image from pixabay.com

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

Life

By Scott Bailey © 2013

Rock
Roll
Hard
Place

Image from Pixabay

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

Silver

By Scott Bailey © 2013

Silver spar pierces the heart
Quivering
Threatening to break
Silver slit steals into the dark
Thrumming
The peace and the feel
Silver streak mars the black
Revealing
The years and the pain
Like rain
In a dark forest

Always silver, never gold.
Never warm, always cold
No longer young but old
Never saved always sold

Image from Pixabay

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

Green Grass

By Scott Bailey © 2013

Green grass allures
On the other side
Reflects in green
In my eyes longing

But the green is not the grass

Image from PIxabay

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

Red Steel

By Scott Bailey © 2013

Blood soaked steel
The sword of a knight
Held up proud
Aloft and bright
He hums to himself

“For unto us a Child is born, unto us a Son is given, and the government
shall be upon His shoulder; and His name shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor,
the Mighty God, the Everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace”

With banshee scream
He storms on down
To hammer home peace.

Image from Pixabay

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

Black Wings

By Scott Bailey © 2013

Black wings
Rushing, beating, clouding all
Death
The all-consuming
Undeniable
Descends, swoops
Threatens and laughs
Yet
Dismissed with a thought

Image from Pixabay

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

Mother Mercury

By Scott Bailey © 2013

Mercury sang to his mother
A plea for help against a world
That loved his every word and deed
But hated his most secret thoughts
They would not accept what he was
In the deepest part of his soul
When will the world catch up
With the genius and the lover
When can the Mercury Mothers
Love their sons’ very hearts

Image from Pixabay

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Searching

By Scott Bailey © 2013

Swimming in infinity
Our thoughts and words and deeds
Seeking out affinity
Where ideas can become seeds
And grow beyond the fates
Of our everyday lives
And open up the gates
where potentiality thrives

Image from Pixabay

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

Until One Day

By Scott Bailey © 2013

Two
Ribbons
Of mist
Hang
Twirling slowly
Around him
Sitting
Silent
In his cage
A cage of
Gold chains
And
Silver bars
Built of responsibility
Parenthood
Husbandhood
Manhood
The cage compresses
The darkness that
Fills it
Darkness surrounds him
Tries to engulf him
But the ribbons of mist
Twirl
Slowly
As he waits
Until One Day

Image from Pixabay

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

Sound of

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

Image from Pixabay

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

The Planets

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.

Image from Pixabay

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

Pounding

By Scott Bailey © 2013

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

Image from Pixabay

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

Entrapment

By Scott Bailey © 2018

The things that we hoard
Entrance us and enslave us
A lifetime of toil
To sit on an empty throne
Why not take the easy road

Image from Pixabay

Thin Fences

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

Image from Pixabay

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

Fragile

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

Image from Pixabay

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

Merope

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

By Henryk Kowalewski (http://www.ccd.neostrada.pl/HTM/Merope.htm) [CC BY-SA 2.5], via Wikimedia Commons

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

Archibald the Wizard

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.

Image from Pixabay

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

Maia

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.

By Pleiades_large.jpg: NASA, ESA, AURA/Caltech, Palomar Observatoryderivative work: Roberto Segnali all’Indiano (Pleiades_large.jpg) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

Electra

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

By Pleiades_large.jpg: NASA, ESA, AURA/Caltech, Palomar Observatoryderivative work: Roberto Segnali all’Indiano (Pleiades_large.jpg) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

Enchanted Forest

By Scott Bailey © 2018

Forest
Verdant, alive
Roots reaching out and down
Branches stretching up to the sky
Spellbound

Image from Pixabay

#Cinquain

Calaeno

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

The Seven Sisters, also known as the Pleiades, seem to float on a bed of feathers in a new infrared image from NASA’s Spitzer Space Telescope. Clouds of dust sweep around the stars, swaddling them in a cushiony veil.
The Pleiades, located more than 400 light-years away in the Taurus constellation, are the subject of many legends and writings. Greek mythology holds that the flock of stars was transformed into celestial doves by Zeus to save them from a pursuant Orion. The 19th-century poet Alfred Lord Tennyson described them as “glittering like a swarm of fireflies tangled in a silver braid.”
By NASA/JPL-Caltech/J. Stauffer (SSC/Caltech) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons
The new infrared image from Spitzer highlights the “tangled silver braid” mentioned in the poem by Tennyson. This spider-web like network of filaments, colored yellow, green and red in this view, is made up of dust associated with the cloud through which the cluster is traveling. The densest portion of the cloud appears in yellow and red, and the more diffuse outskirts appear in green hues. One of the parent stars, Atlas, can be seen at the bottom, while six of the sisters are visible at top.
The Spitzer data also reveals never-before-seen brown dwarfs, or “failed stars,” and disks of planetary debris (not pictured). John Stauffer of NASA’s Spitzer Space Telescope says Spitzer’s infrared vision allows astronomers to better study the cooler, lower-mass stars in the region,

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

Asterope

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

Reflection nebula IC 349 near Merope in the Pleiades.. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

Tuesday Blues

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

Red

By Scott Bailey © 2013

Red
Swathes in fields
Too many

Black and white
The headlines
That sowed the seed

Grey
The problems
The ethics
The guns

Yellow
the gas
and the memories

Red
Remembrance
and ledger

Photo by Bogdan R. Anton on Pexels.com

Word Journey

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?

Image from Pixabay

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Highlands

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

Image from Pixabay

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

www.scottandrewbailey.uk