Low Tide

photo credit: Crunchy Footsteps Tidepooling in La Jolla- tide coming in via photopin (license)

photo credit: Crunchy Footsteps Tidepooling in La Jolla- tide coming in via photopin (license)

Wave after wave,
This life of leavings and goodbyes.
No crescendo just diminuendo,
Petering out into silent partings
And solitary sighs.
 
© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

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Shapes in the Trees

photo credit: ®DS Fading Lines via photopin (license)

photo credit: ®DS Fading Lines via photopin (license)

All just faces amongst the trees.
These illusions we don’t want to believe.
The madness and violence of dreams –
Insomniac visions, streetlight projection on walls,
Winter winds stirring the childhood bogeyman to life again.
Night flights, fever and tears, evils that breed in my mind.
 
© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Rainy Monday

photo credit: © Axel Naud It's rainy outside.. via photopin (license)

photo credit: © Axel Naud It’s rainy outside.. via photopin (license)

I’m a child who is still growing
I’ve not gained enough experience yet.
I don’t have the level of knowing
To stand on my own feet without a helping hand
From someone who loves me.
From someone prepared to accept my fallibility.
My ability to fuck it up on an epic scale,
I can only say sorry
On those days when I don’t feel ready to be an adult.
You know, when it’s Monday and raining again.
 
© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Democracy of One

photo credit: jDevaun.Photography Being via photopin (license)

photo credit: jDevaun.Photography Being via photopin (license)

This is my voice
And it is wrong
More often than
It is right,
I accept that.
I accept this
Mortal fallibility.
It would be wrong
To deny it.
 
© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

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Metamorphosis.

A beautifully simple and sparse poem, from Phoebe

Musings of PuppyDoc

Swathed
within the confines
of her tendrils
Cocooned
by the veins
of trepidation

the constraint
of knowledge

of an image
of that which
she was meant to be.

Achingly
she fights
sinews stretched
tendons taut
‘tween flesh and bone
Shattered
is her strength
Dissolved
are her fears
and the form
she once knew.
She awakens.

With wings spread, she flies away…

…and does not look back.

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Writer’s Block

The cursor flashes green,
The cursor flashes urgent
Shouts out a warning
A tattoo drumbeat
An S.O.S. in Morse code

A mayday that I’m drowning
In this barren desert I call home
Amongst the snowstorm, whiteout
Just blank pages as far as the eye can see
 
© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Incommunicado

photo credit: HibaHaba Moonlight on ice and water via photopin (license)

photo credit: HibaHaba Moonlight on ice and water via photopin (license)

Silence isn’t listening
It’s talking to the moonlight
Floating on the lake.
Answers –
Forever out of reach.
 
© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Danse Macabre

photo credit: Lieven SOETE Orfeo & Majnun ¬ 20161126.0237 via photopin (license)

photo credit: Lieven SOETE Orfeo & Majnun ¬ 20161126.0237 via photopin (license)

I am make believe:
Nightmare and dreams.
Spectre of memory,
The furious fever in scenes
Of theatre macabre.
Phantoms, twisted fancy,
Lurking in shadows,
Poisons that won’t let you be.
 
© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

 

Mansions

photo credit: whitewall buick John Hay House stairhall (demolished) via photopin (license)

photo credit: whitewall buick John Hay House stairhall (demolished) via photopin (license)

There are many rooms
In this mansion,
Many rooms that make the whole.

Rooms of cobwebs,
Rooms of overflowing fears,
Rooms of wonders,
Icicles of tears.

Rooms that look out
North, east, west and south,
Corridors of light filled
With memories of ecstatic shouts.

There are many rooms
In my mind,
It’s not a split personality

Or the cracks in my reality.
It just takes many rooms
To make me whole.
 
© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Stupefied

photo credit: jaci XIII The angel of the dawn via photopin (license)

photo credit: jaci XIII The angel of the dawn via photopin (license)

I’m lost, or I’m forgot,
Or somewhere in between.
A heat haze or autumn mists
Can cloud the vision just the same.
Too much or not enough,
Emotions, leave me dazed.
 
© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.