A writing space for you to enjoy and a writing space for me to employ to increase my writing pace.

Month: July, 2014

Ten, Ten, Fourteen

I think on my future and it seems bright, but I don’t know if I can make it there. The road seems treacherous and overpowering to me. Some days I wonder, and stand up, alight on my feet. Should walk, but I don’t know where. The road twists, winds and weaves around corners I cannot see.

An overbearing presence, a dark wyrm writhes inside. Now kneeling I beg for peace. Crack my bones, stand for a workful walk, try to sing a note. Walking through the woods the beast begins to churn. I fall from my feet into a crevasse and am not free from it’s torment. Water drips from my throat.

Chancing upon a woven rope I climb. For days I swing my arms to catch the height. The depth is too great for me to scale, I tire and lay back.  Years I struggle with the rope and incline. I push with strength, but struggle as I might the endless energy I need I’ve always seemed to lack.



Discovering Without Knowing

I have seen you from afar, 

My beautiful rainbow child,

And I feel I really know who I am,

Now I feel I know who I am.


The dove can fly fast, It could wing slow,

But it shall not escape your gaze,

The horde of beauty, Hidden from my eyes,

It rushes in and passes out of phase.


The lynx mews so soft, I know it’s heart,

You have shown it’s purer side,

Bushes all around, Teeming with life,

The truth of all in me you can confide.


Stag and the doe, Staying in love,

Finding they are truly to be,

Rutting all day, Hunted all night,

Searching tirelessly to be free.


I have seen you from afar, 

My beautiful rainbow child,

And I feel I really know who I am,

Now I feel I know who I am.

Sow Your Healing Seed

Another promise broken, one more piece is loose,

My heart has dropped a whole six feet,

Oh, If you’re so smart come and deduce,

What should be said in this situation,

With your tumbling tongue,

And your vague expression,

If you know the words,

Why don’t you say them,

Why can’t you be the one I need,

Sow your healing seed.

You have so many times before, calm me now,

Lift me as you did this morning,

What has changed between then and now,

If you know the deeds,

Why don’t you do them,

Why can’t you be the one I need,

Sow your healing seed.

Does it mean nothing, what I have done for you,

Giving my rest and my late hours,

If I smiled would you take that too,

If you know the pain,

Why won’t you stop it,

Why can’t you be the one I need,

Sow your healing seed.

Brown Muddy River

Sitting in a cafe I been coming to for years,

People’s churning laughter burning through my ears,

Driving through the smoke broiling from my tea,

Brown muddy river come on cover me.

The lover I been seeing I can’t see no more,

‘Stead of looking at this man I should be heading for the door,

Fool that I am, fools that we are,

Can’t seem to bring myself to feel any more.

Take a ten minute steps down the road,

Through the darkness green eyes glowed,

We been warned there’s a danger of death,

Still we drive on and on none the less.


When you see a person, drowning in their blues,

Take a two minutes more to walk a mile in their shoes.


My throat’s dry, my lips are chapped,

No one spares me saving grace, all goodness stopped,

No one gives two damns, no one throws a line,

E’ryone goes on a-driving, everything is fine.

One man stops and drops three coins,

People call hallelujah and cover up their loins,

Misinterpretation of a simple situation,

Ambition driving them above their station.

Step back to the cafe I been going to for years,

Feeling the warmth flow around my ears,

Fool that I was, fools that we were,

All I ever needed was here.


Let The Record Run

The needle waves so neatly,

I could fall asleep completely,

But I have things to do tomorrow,

No time to think, no time to rest,

Must move on, do  what seems best.


Rotating like the world,

A feeling not unlike cotton being swirled,

All around my prone laying form,

Eyelids flickering on occasion out of time,

Must be heaven like, feel so benign.


Let the record run, let the record run,

Let the man sing his song,

Maybe sing your own when you feel fine,

Or wait till learning is done,

And so play on.

Besooted With Her

She lights up like a candle, Like a wick before a flame,
Calls me such a handle, Loves to hear her name.

She carefully feigns an act, Of over simplicity,
We all know for a fact, Doesn’t have to be.

Taken as the firstborn child, In Wisdoms gaze she has grown,
It seems before she smiled, Joy I did not know.

A blessing unto our time, A gift from the hand of He,
Was never made to climb, But to hear and see.

Staying with her is no fete, She is slow and warm, not cold,
Unsteady on her feet, I catch her and hold.

Flowers are compared to her, Flowing verse is nay enough,
Love struggles not to stir, Be it young and rough.

I forget she’s seventeen, And freedom is some way off,
But love seems like a dream, A crest, never trough.

In will, heart, soul, body, mind, She relaxes and is strong,
Better I could not find, If I searched so long.

She is my wish, my hero, She is my whole completion,
Lifts me higher and, oh, Feeds pure elation.

Love like this is dreamed upon, By kings and queens and poorer,
All troubles are now gone, Truth, I adore her.

Facing the Problem (Walking Story)

The slam of my feet echoes off the surrounding houses. Can’t let them catch me. Can’t let them see where I live. I rush up the once calm path. Crash into the door. Fumbling hands tumble into crunched pockets.  Clasping the key in shaking twigs of fingers.  Put in the key. Turn the key. Push the door. Slam the door. Turn. Run rapidly up the curving stairs. Slow down to enter my room and put the moss on my desk. Take a breather. Turn. Face the problem.


It lies there. Brown and rough at the base, because of the dirt it dug in to. Green and springy are it’s tendrilled leaves. Outwardly it seems as if I only just pulled it from it’s nest. The moss is clean, but it shouldn’t be. Why is it clean? Such a small thing, but it seems to hold so much.


I step forward and raise the moss before my eyes. It holds steady before my amateur scrutiny and yields nought that I sought. Sighing I sit in my plastic chair, surrounded by my wooden, white walled, draft ridden room. I lean back and gaze up at the white, slanting ceiling. I’m not in a ward, but it feels I should be with the scheme of the room and the thoughts that go through my mind. I rest a while.


When I awake it is dark. I open the curtains by my bed and see that a heavy, ghostly mist has descended on the early hours of the morning. If there were a time for evil to walk the earth this would be it. I rush to grab my coat, my sturdiest trainers, and the moss. I open my creaking door and gently pad down the stairs; not wishing to disturb any of my family. As I reach the front door a light flicks on upstairs and I hurriedly whisk myself outside and shut the door behind me.

Jigsaw Mirror

If it were within my strength, 

To undo the wrong I’ve done this length,

Of my life, not a piece would I discard,

For if, but a single shard,

Was taken from a jigsaw mirror,

Would not the whole fail to shimmer,

Of reflection of who I am,

And thus, but one change of plan,

Would break apart this fragile man,

This is not to say to accept mistakes,

Oh no far from, tis better to stand and shake,

Off the clinging dust of the past,

Collect a pinch and make the lesson last,

So a brighter reflection may be seen,

And the mirror be said to truly gleam.