It Hurts 

-

It hurts

Being isolated from your beating heart 

It hurts

No longer able to touch your soul  

It hurts

Images of your smile slowly fading into a misty landscape

It hurts

Frivolous and free laughter still echoes in this empty box

It hurts

Rolling meadows emblazoned in vivid splashes of colour miss your footsteps

It hurts 

Sitting alone staring out to sea in a paradise place once shared

It hurts

Perfume lingering like you’re still standing there

It hurts

Staring at the myriad of mesmerising stars and seeing your face

It hurts

Fighting back the tears, the fear of losing the memory of you

It hurts. 


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Christmas Eve

-
Image
When I was a kid Christmas Eve seemed to be the longest day. I was so excited that the clock seemed to stop turning. It was the only night of the year I wanted to go to bed early so that Christmas Day would come sooner!  Today’s poem tries to capture the excitement of the night before Chrsitmas;  Christmas Eve Tick tock, tick tock The hands turned slowly Tick tock tick tock It was not that I was holy Tick tock tick tock Would Santa ever come Tick tock tick tock Be patient said my mum Tick tock tick tock Pillowcase put in place Tick tock tick tock A spare one just in case Tick tock tick tock A peek into the sky Tick tock tick tock Is he coming I do cry? Tick tock tick tock Time to go to bed Tick tock tick tock Cuddle up with ted Tick tock tick tock Too excited to sleep Tick tock tick tock One eye open to peep Tick tock tick tock Christmas can’t come too fast Tick tock tick tock Fast asleep at last Tick tock tick tock Dark still outside Tick tock tick tock Excitement cannot hide Tick toc
Read more

Shoes on the Bank of the Danube

-
Image
This poem was written after visiting the memorial in Budapest It was conceived by film director Can Togay, he created it on the east bank of the Danube River with sculptor Gyula Pauer to honour the people who were killed by fascist Arrow Cross militiamen in Budapest during World War II. (Wikipedia) 
Read more

Drivel

-
Image
It’s that twixtmas time again. Nothing much happening...so today I have just spent time playing with words and came up with this poem called Drivel.  Drivel This is a trifle trivial A poem not political Pretty petty, partly potty Lacking lucid language A bonkers brainstorm  Bordering on bollocks A frivolous frolic Meandering meaninglessly  Ebbing and flowing Perpetually pouring  Mind numbing nonsense Best before breakfast A bonanza of banal boredom Designed to drive you dotty Depending on your disposition  A frisson of fantasy Not meant for Auntie Hard of hearing Hattie Partly passing for prose More like a double dose  A death defying drivel This is crap official Stunningly superficial Bereft of anything beneficial Waiting, wanting the final whistle Wishing this pissing poem would end Fishing for a final full stop Stop, stop, stop This is a stinker Hook line and sinker!!
Read more