The war, the peace

Day 27 and a wish for a kinder world

Made of sticks and stones

photo credit: Kyats via photopin (license) photo credit: Kyats via photopin(license)

Remnants of the war,
Leave the children crying in
An uneasy peace.

Bringers of freedom,
Peddle new tyrannies
Like cotton candy

And sugar coated
Lies are still lies
In the mornings light.

© 2015 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

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Twenty-three pairs of chromosomes

photo credit: Axlaxes via photopin (license)

photo credit: Axlaxes via photopin (license)

What if everybody else is as screwed-up as me.
What if my behaviour is just normal for here.
Perhaps this is not spontaneous combustion
And just the confirmation I’m human

Like a mental gravity weighing me down.
Would any aliens that happen to pass by
Know that we are all cracked, twisted and broken.
Maybe there should be a sign up high in the heavens,

“Planet Earth – you gotta be crazy to visit here.”

© 2015 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Doll

photo credit: * * * via photopin (license)

photo credit: * * * via photopin (license)

What am I to do with you my little china girl.
Don’t want to watch you breaking apart
When I see another heartbreak on your horizon
That I know will make you cry.
When I see you hanging out
With that Mr So-Wrong-For-You guy.
When I know he’s going to let you fall
And shatter you into a million pieces
My little china girl.

© 2015 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Masks

Day 25: Some fiction for you. If it all goes dark and I disappear after this post don’t blame me blame Microsoft – Windows 10 has hijacked my computer and decided to download itself.

Made of sticks and stones

(166 words)

photo credit: Club Fierce: Algorave (My Panda Shall Fly) via photopin (license) photo credit: Club Fierce: Algorave (My Panda Shall Fly) via photopin(license)

Domino took off her face and placed it in the box along with all the rest.
The thin membrane mask writhed sinuously. She had worn all of the twenty “faces for everyday life and all social occasions” now, and as she looked closely all the masks seemed to be malfunctioning to various degrees. Twenty sets of eyeholes stared sightlessly up at her from faces that seemed to exhibit everything from a nervous tic right up to snarls and violent spasms.
Even worse they were guaranteed to provide a “radical reinvention” of the wearer’s natural look but to Domino they just looked like her own face, just her face on a really bad day.
‘I’ll have to send them back.’ She said, to the reflection in the mirror ‘Otherwise that’s six months wages down the toilet.’
The…

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As Silence

photo credit: Dusky via photopin (license)

photo credit: Dusky via photopin (license)

There are lights out on the water
Moving towards us across the dark sea.
Maybe they are spirits, the last of the angels
The howling winds their tormented song.
Or perhaps it is Armada,
The Enemy come to invade us,
Laying siege and then ruin if we dare to resist.
But for now they’re just lights on the ocean
And until the morning it’s too dark to see.

© 2015 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Green fingers

Day 24 for those who struggle to get anything to grow.

Made of sticks and stones

photo credit: squish via photopin (license) photo credit: squish via photopin(license)

The tomatoes are still green and are starting to rot,
While the marrows remain the size of a pea.
The runner beans can barely manage a crawl
And the spring onions might be ready for Christmas.
I’m doing alright for all manner of pests,
Slugs I’ve got those, as big as your car,
And beetles and all kinds of mites.
My apples have maggots,
The pears just have mould.
Meanwhile the plum tree
Lies down on its side,
Complains of the cold
And asks to see a Tree Doctor.
But when I look out of my window
At the X-rated horror show garden
To see what else has died in the night.
I can say with justifiable pride
At least the weeds turned out lovely again.

© 2015 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

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New Shoots

An endless cycle
Green gives way to brown, Then white
As the snow falls down,
But beneath the blanket
Crocus and snowdrop wait.

snowdrop

© 2015 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Wildfire

Day 22 – and it’s cold enough for a fire…

Made of sticks and stones

photo credit: Forest nymph via photopin (license) photo credit: Forest nymph via photopin(license)

Sets the sun ablaze,
Igniting the fire within.
Passion threatens
To overflow. As the muse
Takes hold and won’t let me go.

© 2015 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

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The Crow Knows

Black_Crow_clip_art_hight (2)

Hello, just popping by quickly to say that the latest short story is now up on the On The Broken Road blog. Would be great if you could pop by for a visit.

Half a world away

Day 21: & a late substitute, which I wanted to share for no better reason than I came across a poem I had forgotten and it asked to be shared again.
Yes worrying, my poems are talking to me.

Made of sticks and stones

photo credit: Redscape via photopin (license) photo credit: Redscape via photopin(license)

In an hour we could be sixty miles away.

Tomorrow we could be in France

Or on a plane to Mumbai,

Half a world away from here.

Let’s have an adventure, a fiesta, a new start.

So come on take my hand

Let’s leave our troubles behind and escape.

 

© 2015 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

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