What it Seems

photo credit: biizz it's not over via photopin (license)

photo credit: biizz it’s not over via photopin (license)

What happens if I distrust the rumours
But take your sweetest lies as facts?

Well the honey bee knows
That the strongest perfume can disguise the truth
And that the prettiest blooms can sometimes be empty inside.
It’s like the stag that has learned to fear the silence
Because of the danger that lies in autumn shadow.
Or the wind that cries softly in November,
For remembrance of what winter brings.
 
© 2016 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

This is the final prompt of five from ‘How to Write a Poem’ by Tania Runyan, and is all about unanswered questions.

Kites

photo credit: jurban IMG_0592 via photopin (license)

photo credit: jurban IMG_0592 via photopin (license)

On high,
Eyes wide seeing all
Mapping the ground for signs,
Knowing all. Waiting for opportunity,
The bending of a stem spied below,
As talons tensing in anticipation,
You scry omens of good fortune.

A murder of crows takes flight
Cawing foreign curses as they rise
To give battle. Hooligan rabble
With threats seek to take control
Of the skies.
The prey slips out of your eyeline
As black wings beating furiously
Crows seek to crowd you out.

Wing dips as you circle,
The chorus waits to sing.
Thin rodent wriggles weakly,
Not what you sought
But gripped tightly between claws
The only meal you could beg.
For the brood that sing praises
For their mother returning home.
 
© 2016 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

This is from prompt number four of five

photo credit: vpickering Blossom Kite Festival via photopin (license)

photo credit: vpickering Blossom Kite Festival via photopin (license)

Banging

photo credit: Frankie Tseng (法蘭基) DSC_4244 via photopin (license)

photo credit: Frankie Tseng (法蘭基) DSC_4244 via photopin (license)

Banging my head against
The world. Because you have to
Laugh, before you cry. Even when
It threatens to kick you in

The balls or punch you in
The gut. So you have to fightback,
Take a stand for what you believe,
Not just go along with the

Conservative point of view.
Because you’re a long time dead
And it’s never too late to
Take a different tack. Breathe

And breathe again, just to make
Sure. Because like I said you’re
A long time dead to waste life
Banging heads with the world.
 
© 2016 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

 

 This poem is the third to come from a series of five prompts from ‘How to Write a Poem’ by Tania Runyan

 

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The Lambs were Lost

photo credit: h.koppdelaney Evening via photopin (license)

photo credit: h.koppdelaney Evening via photopin (license)

First was Rodinia who gathered all lambs

The first shepherd for the world’s sheep.

Pannotia followed when Rodinia died

Until the Varangian Ice demons

Descended from the clouds

To cover the lands in a blanket of white,

Smothering the world with their ire.

Pangaea tried next after the glacier departed

With what was left of the flock.

But though she called and she called,

She couldn’t gather them all to her call,

And cried when she realised

That sweet Avalon was forever departed.

Pangaea pined away from the loss of that lamb

Neglecting the flock in her grief

And her ungrateful children stole up in the night

While she cried there on the shores of old Tethys.

Dishonest Laurasia headed north,

Duplicitous Gondwana ventured south

Both seeking riches and fortune.

But on stepping out in the wilds

The Ice Demons returned out of the cold

Unleashed tectonic force from the depths of the world

Scattering the lambs forever.

© 2016 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

This is the second of the five prompts, not sure if this one is even a poem really but gor’bless Wikipedia for all the fancy words, I managed to mangle all the facts all on my own.

Like Me and You

photo credit: Neil. Moralee The Preacher. via photopin (license)

photo credit: Neil. Moralee The Preacher. via photopin (license)

Dog yap preacher barking in the street
about how Jesus wasn’t a Jew:
‘He was a Roman you know,’ he said,
‘a good Christian soul like me and you.’
 
© 2016 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Mindspace Blown

One must have a mind of spaces.
Imagining windblown silence
In a meadow, summer ripe with butterflies.
In between the hustling tornadoes
Of traffic jams and parking fines.

Or the pin prickle caress of spring rain
Washing skin cleaner than baptism,
One’s soul dancing with the divine.
Between inhale and exhale, seeking
A sanctuary for the urban mind.
 
© 2016 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

 This poem is the first to come from a series of five prompts from ‘How to Write a Poem’ by Tania Runyan

 

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Imitation of Me

photo credit: Simeon Berg Day 175 - Going All Out via photopin (license)

photo credit: Simeon Berg Day 175 – Going All Out via photopin (license)

I am an imitation,
A pale shadow,
A shopping list of ingredients
For a warming casserole;
When you’d rather dine out
At the razor-blade cafe.

I don’t fit in this strait-jacket
The tailor of society
Has picked out for me.
I am Jack
But I won’t go back in the box.
I will kick and scream

Make a fuss
As the hangman drags me to the gallows.
I will plot my escape to the very last
Hide four aces up my sleeves.
Getting down on my knees
And begging for deliverance.

Because what you want,
What you’ve seen from me so far,
Is less than I’ve got to give.
And if you stand back
(At a safe distance)
Then the best is yet to come.

 

© 2016 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

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Eggshells

photo credit: Niccolò Caranti Miss Italia via photopin (license)

photo credit: Niccolò Caranti Miss Italia via photopin (license)

There is nothing behind the eyes,
Beauty skin deep,
Dermatologically challenged,
Because there is nothing within.

Feathered adornment, but a show.
Flesh glows with nature’s bounty
With decay in the soul.
Because there is nothing within.

The heart retreats before
The barren touch,
The demeaning gaze of them.
Because they have nothing within.
 
© 2016 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Deluded

photo credit: stimpsonjake In Our Upside-Down World via photopin (license)

photo credit: stimpsonjake In Our Upside-Down World via photopin (license)

Why is the rain cold,
What does the sky contain
For us, is it the future foretold.
Is the sun up there
Swaddled in blankets of cloud.
Does the sun care, has it departed.
Is it a stone hearted deserter
Run away from our worries,
Our directionless scurry. Back and forth,
Avoiding individual raindrops
But drenched by the downpour.
 
© 2016 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

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Emergency Room

photo credit: ♣♦♥♠ throw another stone via photopin (license)

photo credit: ♣♦♥♠ throw another stone via photopin (license)

Desiring without knowing,
What it is you desire.
Wanting so much,
It’s a pain in the gut.
Twisting to the whim,
A jerk of the strings.
Searching for an answer
For the needs in me.
 
© 2016 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.