poetry

A Nostalgic Farewell

I watch from my window, as you prepare to leave me. The streetlight

illuminates you in a hazy orange gloom, as you banish frost from your windscreen

My window, smirched from warm breath saves me from seeing that look you wear

Fumbling with your keys whilst you wrestle with your overnight bag

Your Caribbean blue charger snorts impatiently at the charade.

I press my hand against the cold glass; you wave goodbye.

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In Shadow of the Sun

Sometimes I am struck by the sheer futility of it all

Crossing out days in the calendar as if they were nothing

Allowing the sands of time to slip away

Watching the rising and setting of the sun

Knowing that in each lost day drowns a moment

An imagined space in fate forfeited, passed over

 

Some days there is anger, a hope that it will soon be over

A growing sadness that encourages me to leave it all

To walk away and seize the moment

But the fear of uncertainty, of being left with nothing

To be naked to elements, left to dry in the sun

These thoughts restrain me, stop me running away

 

Instead I walk a precarious line; he’d rather look away

Never wanting to face that its over

Seeing us as youngsters, playing in the sun

Willing to deny the truth, trying to forget it all

Attempting to believe the agitation is nothing

Not allowing emotion, not for a moment.

 

But it’s true, we are here in this moment

I still haven’t given anything away

Even at this juncture, I offer nothing

Except silent acknowledgement it’s over

I can offer no comfort at all

For I am every evil under the sun

 

I contemplate this in bed, awaiting the rising of the sun

My mind a kinetoscope, replaying every moment

Squeezing life from every last memory, I drink them all

Chasing down fragments, not allowing any to slip away

Nailing down reason, trawling through thoughts over and over

Torturing feelings to confirm there is nothing

 

Nothing more to hold me, no person, no thing

Save the inexplicable guilt of hurting a mothers son

My head so thick and weary, as though harbouring a hangover

Could it be my courage finally gathers momentum?

I should vault the bandwagon straightaway

To hell with my wherewithal

 

Who cares if I have nothing, I’d be open to it all

Then when my life expires, they can talk of this moment

And extol, I didn’t let the sun settle and let myself slip away

A Drivers Graveyard

There’s an anger residing in hospital car parks
A hive of resentment for all that reside there
Centrical drivers in neat little boxes
Filling with fury while waiting for spaces
The stationary lane of vehicle drop offs
Stuck in defiance, wavering conventions
Growling at patients for daring to enter
A system denying all logic or sense
With scandalous charges for family penance