photo credit: Natalia Medd Underwater Tale 🙂 via photopin (license)

Glory be to the moment
The ecstasy of not knowing
Just anticipating
And hesitating
On the threshold of a room.
For eyes to lock
And imagination to unfold
Into a dream,
When I see you again.
© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.


Black Rose Inkings

photo credit: ♡ dare to share beauty Purple Rose Macro – HDR via photopin (license)

Black rose inked on lily-white skin
Can’t hide your translucent soul.
I see through the façade
To the petals within, petals
Blowing in the wind. Transitory,
Illusory, your beauty
Something you don’t believe in.
Something you don’t realise
Is carried within.
© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

One Too Many Lies (Tumbleweed)

photo credit: Stuck in Customs Haunted Namibia via photopin (license)

You are shackled now
No time for regrets, only fools
Would have contemplated
That the dice would have rolled
Any different way for you.
The time for changing
Was more than a million lies ago
Back when your suit was new
And your smile hadn’t lost its shine.

And you wonder why everybody is disbelieving,
When all the prophets are leaving
On the night train and the red eye.
Heading out of town and back to their rooms
To close the curtains, shut out the light.
When your alabaster countenance
Is bending and sagging under the weight
Of the fight. When the lies you’ve told are stacking up
To a million and one too many lies.
© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

End of Season

photo credit: Charlie.Wales Time out via photopin (license)

This is the forgotten time
Before the fall
That solemn quietude
After the revellers have returned
To their homes.
Before autumn blazes
In a cavalcade of colours
That signify a multitude
Of tiny silent deaths.
This forgotten time
Of the first chill,
Before the real chill
Envelops us in its breath.
© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Warning Signs

photo credit: enki22 b.p.c. via photopin (license)

Numbness spreading out from within
Like a gangrene, strange confusion.
Death cell by cell, crawling back in
To the snakeskin of my own hell.
I am the monster, it is me.
This falling before the fall.
Shadow footsteps echoes in hell;
Darkness’s calling heard before.

© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.