Mephistopheles

And I’m begging
For someone to listen,
While I’m hanging
Over this pit of razor blades
And rattlesnakes.
Between the end
And what lies beyond
On Hell’s merry-go-round.
While all about
Are shades of what used to be,
Hanging with the ghosts of yesterday.
If one of them
Would look me in the eye
Offer the cooling balm,
A sip from that grail
A little mercy for me.

© 2015 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

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Rivers

The river swells or dies to nothing
Like a beating heart.
The waters bring the world back from its slumbers
Like in a fairy tale that prince’s kiss,
Or the deluge brings destruction
Along with the flood.
But the rivers flow regardless,
On summer morn or at winter dusk.
They will still flow after we’ve departed
And all civilisation
Turns to dust.

© 2015 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Regard

I hate you,
But I like you too
And I don’t know whether
To give you a kiss on the lips
Or a kick down the stairs.
Are you a Knickerbocker glory?
Or tapioca’s slippy-balls?
You’re one in a million,
A royal pain in the arse.
You’re the tops;
That verruca I’ve got to get out.
I just can’t live without you,
Yes I never want to see you again.
I can honestly say at the end of day
I’m highly ambivalent about you.

© 2015 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Young

The white waves call
The crippled newborn forth out of the shell.
Born into a world ill-equipped
For life.
And on belly it crawls slowly
Towards the healing waters
To be reborn; take flight,
To feel young again.

© 2015 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

The opening line of this poem comes from the Louis Macneice poem “Prayer Before Birth”. I’ve only just come across his work recently and now it seems like every other new poem I read is his.

“Young” is one of two poems I’ve written that have borrowed this line, neither of which ended up exactly as I planned. Perhaps the line just wanted to head back to where it began.

Climbing

photo credit: IMG_1169 via photopin (license)

photo credit: IMG_1169 via photopin (license)

Higher, higher;
Down, down;
Don’t know which way
Peace will be found.

They’ve gone and left me here
Out on this ledge
Hanging on by my fingertips.
With all this knowledge

Of good and wrong
Weighing me down,
Driving me to the edge not knowing
If a better place can be found.

© 2015 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Reminiscence

"Tizian 011" by Titian - The Yorck Project: 10.000 Meisterwerke der Malerei. DVD-ROM, 2002. ISBN 3936122202. Distributed by DIRECTMEDIA Publishing GmbH.. Licensed under Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons.

Tizian 011” by Titian – The Yorck Project: 10.000 Meisterwerke der Malerei. DVD-ROM, 2002. ISBN 3936122202. Distributed by DIRECTMEDIA Publishing GmbH.. Licensed under Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons.

Rivers of gold
Flow all about you,
A halo that illuminates your face.
You are a creature that belongs
To Titian or Tintoretto
Not here in the late twentieth-century.
I fear that if I disturb you from your dream
Then it’ll be I, not you, that shall awake.

© 2015 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.