Haunting Season

I’m lost
To the four winds,
Scattered ashes,
Windblown leaves on an autumn breeze.
Longing to be a memory that makes it
Through the darkness of this dying season
That’s forever haunting me.
© 2016 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.


That Chaos Thing

So you’re gone again
Taken your light and headed home
At the first hint of tears.
As if you fear you’ll melt in the rain.
But you still want me to pretend
That it’s all about you,
That the planets and the asteroids
Are just hanging around
With nothing better to do.
For the butterfly to flutter a wing,
You know that chaos thing you do.
Shouting out to the universe to stop it all
Complaining about all that crazy emotion and gravity
That you claim is dragging you down.
Putting the blame on me,
Expecting me to carry the weight.
But I can’t, not this time.
It is not visible in my stars I think
Not now that gravity has moved me on
And the eclipse has hidden you from view.
© 2016 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.


I see waves beat upon the shore.
But if I close my eyes
I feel the ripples, reverberations
Of some other place and time.
The tide evokes memories
With the sound of its ebb and flow.
These whispers of yesterday in the water,
When I close my eyes and give myself to the sea.
© 2016 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

At Winter’s Edge

It’s a memory in the bones of the earth
In the skeleton of the trees, clothed still
Beneath summer growth and leaves. In the wind
That gusts in honour of fierce November.
While summer rain clings, chills you to the soul.
© 2016 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.


Wind kisses upon the water.

The breeze stirs the leaves of the willow,
Moving like the fingertips of a dancer would.
Elegant branches,
Limbs of an acrobat, sway
Dipping low agitating the mirror calm
Of the tranquil pool.

Elemental water and sylvan spirit of living wood
Allowed to commune,
Within this companion silence.
© 2016 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Swimming Underground

Drowning out the sound
Of the living beings.
Precious moments
Spreading out
Tentacles touching eternity.
Cracks in reality,
As eye to eye with the divine
I delve my hand beneath the earth
Dive down
Amongst this Promethean decay.
© 2016 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.