Sinking in a stream of darkness
Black engulfs me
Tears
Misery
Fighting too hard
Choking
It’ll never be ok
Unexpected
You pull me out
The strong hand of hope
Whilst I was flailing
Effortlessly
You pull me out
Into a light so bright
Warm
Heart beats as you hold my hand
In this new light
Contented in this new light
It will be ok, if only for a while
I’ve got light in my darkness now.
Sunday 25 January 2009
An Ex-Poem (with its Feet Nailed to its Cage) - Chris Brown
Where love is not, poets do…
And those who can’t? I hear they teach
Pupils with nothing else to do
But stare, solemn, on some grey beach.
The unknown touch of reddened lips
Is in all detail somehow rhymed
By those who, in darkness, sit
Scribbling that “The world is kind”.
O unkind world, O unpaid bills!
Where are the ways, where are the wills?
If green is fresh, and love is red,
Then the colour they make is I, so led
To memorise the sonnet’s form
When all I feel is hate and scorn.
Which words are mine, which were I told?
The air bites shrewdly, it is very cold.
Skinned amongst the prickle-stones,
In some desert of the future,
With unpaid bills and refused loans,
I am, torch-lit, the poet unknown.
With the grunt of twine and twist of knife,
I trap my ink in these self-bound tomes,
Please, Fame, don’t come with the end of life;
Beyond stained walls groans the neighbours’ wife.
And those who can’t? I hear they teach
Pupils with nothing else to do
But stare, solemn, on some grey beach.
The unknown touch of reddened lips
Is in all detail somehow rhymed
By those who, in darkness, sit
Scribbling that “The world is kind”.
O unkind world, O unpaid bills!
Where are the ways, where are the wills?
If green is fresh, and love is red,
Then the colour they make is I, so led
To memorise the sonnet’s form
When all I feel is hate and scorn.
Which words are mine, which were I told?
The air bites shrewdly, it is very cold.
Skinned amongst the prickle-stones,
In some desert of the future,
With unpaid bills and refused loans,
I am, torch-lit, the poet unknown.
With the grunt of twine and twist of knife,
I trap my ink in these self-bound tomes,
Please, Fame, don’t come with the end of life;
Beyond stained walls groans the neighbours’ wife.
Visions - Chris Brown
Jump for the moon; find yourself in the
Depths of blue-green water; clouds of
Ecstatic sand brushing the pearl afloat.
Can you touch the ground again? Or will
The white-green eye pull your fingers from
That lamppost and let you fly from the spotlight;
Past the clock and the beating of your heart. Then –
You can join the universe; soul-bound at the edges;
Where the voices of the dead tattoo signals
Into the night; revelations for the stars to
Align against; a magnetism that is found in
Forgotten vessels; interfered with by the
Burning masses; deciding fates by the chewing
Of herbs. White-eyed and blue with time, forcing
Breath from the trees, the mother-god prunes her
Universe-pet, watches another drama. Jump, and
Meet her face-to-thought. She is telling a story
With angels; They sit, the Three, and wind paradoxes
From the air; build the thoughts of men. Jump, and
You will see dead grey hands left clinging to cold metal.
The clock ticks the life from them, and the star-eyed
Angels sit amongst their knowledge. Jump, and in a
Cloud of dust, reach for the pearl in the green-blue depths.
Depths of blue-green water; clouds of
Ecstatic sand brushing the pearl afloat.
Can you touch the ground again? Or will
The white-green eye pull your fingers from
That lamppost and let you fly from the spotlight;
Past the clock and the beating of your heart. Then –
You can join the universe; soul-bound at the edges;
Where the voices of the dead tattoo signals
Into the night; revelations for the stars to
Align against; a magnetism that is found in
Forgotten vessels; interfered with by the
Burning masses; deciding fates by the chewing
Of herbs. White-eyed and blue with time, forcing
Breath from the trees, the mother-god prunes her
Universe-pet, watches another drama. Jump, and
Meet her face-to-thought. She is telling a story
With angels; They sit, the Three, and wind paradoxes
From the air; build the thoughts of men. Jump, and
You will see dead grey hands left clinging to cold metal.
The clock ticks the life from them, and the star-eyed
Angels sit amongst their knowledge. Jump, and in a
Cloud of dust, reach for the pearl in the green-blue depths.
Borrowed Crown - Larissa Ransom
Sitting on the bed
after light has gone out
Queen
of the darkness.
My courtiers surround
Me. Worship me
and idol me.
They hypnotise me into
sleep.
When day breaks, I am mortal once more.
The Sun is King
And I am but the lowly worshipper
Until night returns again.
after light has gone out
Queen
of the darkness.
My courtiers surround
Me. Worship me
and idol me.
They hypnotise me into
sleep.
When day breaks, I am mortal once more.
The Sun is King
And I am but the lowly worshipper
Until night returns again.
Ode to a Lone Lamp Post - Larissa Ransom
Light flickers,
dimming,
dies.
In a whimper
it is gone –
surrendering to the dark
which consumes,
devours,
all.
dimming,
dies.
In a whimper
it is gone –
surrendering to the dark
which consumes,
devours,
all.
Night's Realm - Larissa Ransom
Two dim bulbs glow
amongst the darkness.
Beneath,
shadows writhe:
trees, arms knotted,
tangled,
reaching toward sky
like beggars on the street.
Yet they are not the lowliest beings
during the reign of Night.
In the heavens
dark grey smudge hides
the moon,
the stars,
And the two dim bulbs do flicker,
blink.
And the mouse,
scurrying in Autumn’s late harvest,
does not see
the threat above.
Owl strikes.
amongst the darkness.
Beneath,
shadows writhe:
trees, arms knotted,
tangled,
reaching toward sky
like beggars on the street.
Yet they are not the lowliest beings
during the reign of Night.
In the heavens
dark grey smudge hides
the moon,
the stars,
And the two dim bulbs do flicker,
blink.
And the mouse,
scurrying in Autumn’s late harvest,
does not see
the threat above.
Owl strikes.
Darkness - Elizabeth Barnes
freezing icy
numbing darkness
chills you through
right to the core
but still
one fleeting thought you think
where is the light
I see no more
Pitch-black darkness
All around you
Nowhere light
No help around
But there
a small and floundering pin point
struggling through
without a sound
growing bigger
very slowly
resisting all
and growing bright
and now
a brand new dawn is breaking
hello to day
goodbye to night
numbing darkness
chills you through
right to the core
but still
one fleeting thought you think
where is the light
I see no more
Pitch-black darkness
All around you
Nowhere light
No help around
But there
a small and floundering pin point
struggling through
without a sound
growing bigger
very slowly
resisting all
and growing bright
and now
a brand new dawn is breaking
hello to day
goodbye to night
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