The Journey

This one is a bit more like my usual complicated, crazy, hard to understand (especially for me) stuff. Its just from watching the outside whizz past in the car.

The Journey

The broken becomes a continuous stream,
leaves, twigs, branches
the years debris
merges into one
constant stream.
Life.
The further things are constant
the horizon is still
through the glass,
teardrops of water
collect on the speeding
windows lip.

The horizon stays constant,
still, the dizzying,
exciting, breathtalingly fast, pass,
leaves, twigs, branches
as debris of my life,
yet the straight,
safe, sturdy.
Stands, shifts, only slightly,
with me.
Let it pass.
Ex

Lowry's Lions, Berwicks Ramparts, The house of the blue gables, The Contented Sole

9th of October - All of these poems were written on my trip to St Andrews Open day on wednesday, we stopped in Berwick upon Tweed, a place where the artist Lowry (whom worked majorly in charcoal) worked and lived.
We walked the walls and i jotted down these pieces, I haven't had time to touch up on them, so these are as they were when i wrote them walking about, so don't expect too much !

We saw a grand house, which was derelict the time Lowry was there, and is now scrubbed up so as to honour his love of the place. It is present in many of his paintings/sketches. Outside the door were these two stone lions.


Lowry's Lions

Charcoal outlines the coastline,
it glistens in the setting sunlight,
staring, gazing with solemn, crazed eyes
the lions stone gaze cries
for a long-distant loving master
whom was their caster,
into charcoal on paper
into time,
their saviour.
Ex

Standing on a section of the ancient stone walls that surround the majority of the city, protecting it from the sea (and in places the scots) at around dusk, I could see cormrants (black water birds) what seemed to be a iron smelting building, with a huge red brick chimney, and the sea.


Berwicks Ramparts

From the stone
you see the waters edge
the sand, the weed,
a light house, white, red
on light light blue
and a colossal red finger of fire, from iron,
points to the sky.
It splits the lines of houses
from the sea.

Blackbirds hover,
finding the last of lights catch,
calls mix with the waves, crashing, loud,
but subdued, cowed by the walls, quietened,
less threatening, protecting.
Ex

Around the corner from the done up derelict house of Lowry's day, was -ironically- a derelict town house, with lovely blue gables, sided with a nicely done up one, with quite a boring however neat front.

The house of the blue gables

From the broken windows the eyes stare,
watch as tourists totter past
in the suns last glare.
They just gaze quietly, sadly,
beside their grand neighbour
whom wields the history, power.
When they are seen as lower,
though gables blue
they no longer house
their happy owner,
though past lives on in the broken windows
eyeless stare.
Ex

After Berwick, we headed past Eyemouth, where we stopped at a harbour side pub/restaurant called 'The Contented Sole'.

The Cotented Sole

The pubs open door breathes
warmth and music
onto the balmy harbour,
and the people settle into the cosy leather seats,
fish battered, sigh heat as sliced,
and the beer fizzes,
as the sun sets the people fill their hungry bellies,
with the possessions of the sea,
white fish in bubbling batter.
Ex

The Clock

The watched clock never changes.
If only that was true.
Time would be mine.

Instead I sit
as greedy fingers drag away my precious minutes.
A slave to the unperturbed face.
Continuously moving onwards
constantly tracing a circle,
the arms are dizzying as they spin,
the head aches
trying to comprehend the stakes
time entails.

Ex 7th/10

Weaving

You can say something about anything.
Words can
change, trick, decieve millions of minds,
around hatred, weave the appearence of love.

Dig, lift, crush, inflate.
Worlds greatest enemy
is the master of words.

Ex 7th/10

Fallen

Freedom. Will not you bring solace?
To a heart, yet unwarmed,
cold as ice.
Or bring quality to loneliness?
If never felt, never touched upon
what could be.. What dreams, can be..
Then there is quality in loneliness,
solace in freedom.
However, if you are falling from dreams,
so as your fabricated life, ends,
it breaks at the seams.

Ex 2nd 10th

The friend

It was my friends birthday so i tried to write her a happy friendly poem. And this is what i got -_- Its a lot more lovey and sounds alot like the person has left me, gone to university, or died ..
      

In times to come
when i lie on pastures green,
will you lie with me?
Though unseen.
In times to come
when i look to the sky,
will you look with me?
at every ray and beam.
In times to come
you will be with me
walk with me,
lie with me,
see with me,
even though
you are not with me,
you are far away,
we will be as one.
Because, my friend,
who we are,
is what we become,
and you and i, my friend
we are so similar, that,
our minds, hearts,
are not yet done.

Ex 12/9

Not what it was

Though this sounds quite depressing, it wasn't meant to, its meant to sound quite uplifting and applaud the need for love... but yeahhh it didnt turn out too positive.. Well the way you look at it will change the way you think of it, take 'I no longer want for this' for example, that sentance is meant to relate to the last cluster of sentances and say i don't want for love anymore, because i have it, NOT i no longer want for love, because i had it and frankly it wasnt great. but anyway, you choose how to interpret it.

There is my love
I see
my life, my death,
my days, my nights,
In them,
one person, whom stole my life.
unknowingly thieved me.
No strife,
no sadness,
no fear.
Like what i felt
before.
and no sights,
no scenes
no beauty.
Like what i'd ever seen
before.

I no longer want for this.

Take it from me
and i will live a half-life
which i had before,
but now it is not
what it was,
this can no longer be,
what it was.

Ex 10/9

Tenacious

Tenacious, asked one of my friends for a random word, they said tenacious (just to be awkward im sure) et voila.

Bond, a glue, an adhesive, binding glue,

Joins you and I,

Me and you,

Together something there,

Which coincides with air,

Forces us together,

Tenacious, firm a hold

Forever living, forever told.

 

Ex 13/9

The Folley

Standing, desolate
the building lies,
sleeping, undisturbed
under the everchanging skies.
The people who have been past,
their life, their being dies,
but the chapel, remembers them,
quiet, listening,
still it stands.

Visitors gaze, question
it's existance
each of its days, and
how it achieved
this state, disrepair,
silence,
but beautiful and ever listening,
keeping and making,
steeping and shrouding,
secrets, the secrets
of their past,
its present,
the future.
It will nurture
and keep alive.

Ex 10/8th

The folk song

Just come back from stewarding a couple of days at a folk week, I love the music so much, and the atmosphere is so strange and lively.

The folk song

I can not sing like you.
Can not play like you,
but let me listen,
because when I do,
I can hear a thousand voices,
singing to me alone,
I hear emotion,
I hear of ancient love,
I hear of ancient sadness,
It teaches me something about everything,
and everyone.

Ex 24/8

Listen to 'lemon tree' by peter, paul and mary

Pensive

 I haven't posted in this blog for a very long time, so i'm coming back !

Pensive

Why don't you follow us? Keep the right side of that door?
Because, law, i still abide by it.
Why can't you move on? Forget that which happened before?
Because, knowledge, I still know it.
Why can't you be happy? Why don't you smile more?
Because, happiness, i overthought it.

Pegs, each one a smile,
hang me out to dry,
permenant, unmoveable.
The line of thought.
I hang.

17/6

'Come down'

Step down
from your high horse,
change that frown
set your features to a new course.
It wouldn't hurt to smile
at me
it wouldn't be hard to look
at me.
But you just like everyone to think
you are the one who came out worse.
16/6