photo credit: danidelgado.es 33-365 via photopin (license)

Falling into forgetfulness
As day drifts out of sight.
Returning to the innocence
In the shadows of the night.
Falling into forgetfulness
As the sandman turns out the lights.
© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

At First

photo credit: Magdalena Roeseler Nikol via photopin (license)

That first time
Wasn’t like the last
First time.

Yet every first time
Is something.
Something strange.

Rising suns
And falling stars,
You and I

Like eagles with talons
Entwined together
In descending flight.
© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Optimism (Or How I Wrote A Book)

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I released my first book Wreckage (e-book available for only 99c/99p) this year and fulfilling a long term goal has had a big effect on how I view myself and the world around. Yes the birds have always sung up in the trees it is just that I’m more likely to take notice of them now.

Those of you who have been reading my blog a long time will realise that I didn’t just wake up on 1 January 2017 with a sore head and a burning desire to write a poetry book.

Truth is before I started this blog nearly four years ago, I would not have considered writing a poetry book, a book yes but poetry. The reality is even lifelong goals/dreams change over time. Life dreams should be malleable after all moulded by the dreamer, a lived in experience.

And as I’ve had a thing for the number 17 for years the fact that it read ’17 on the calendar did give a once in a lifetime impulse to completing the project within the calendar year, but I also feel it is a beginning not an end. Because I know there are more projects to follow and they don’t need omens and lucky charms to make them happen. Just hard work.

But that is the secret when you have something that you are passionate about it does not seem like hard work. And the inevitable downs of life are easier to cope with. In fact the year is potentially ending on a decidedly flat note. However I can’t view this difficulty in anything like the sombre tones that I would have in the past. Because for me there is a symbiotic relationship between what happens on the creative side and the rest of it. All of the ghastly grey that would have in the past overwhelmed me.

The “grey” still exists as it does for everyone but now I appear to be developing a better handle on the proper context it should exist in. It’s a work-in-progress but there’s a definite framework and foundation, something to build on.

What comes next is 2018, completing a novel draft, more poetry, continuing studying for an English Literature Degree  and continuing to drop into the conversation whenever I can the fact that I’ve written a book (also available in paperback).


© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.


photo credit: scyrene Ice forest via photopin (license)

Breath congregates like candyfloss before my eyes
And grass appears dusted by icing sugar
In this midwinter slumberland
That greets me at my door.

The gate creaks as I creep out into the morning
Gingerly, like an ice-skating tightrope-walker.
The age of steam has dawned again for me
As I venture out with train engine breathing,
Chugging on, disaster just a slip-slide away.
© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

A Tree Full of Crows

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There’s a tree full of crows,
A heartbreak full of souls,
A sinking ship
Out there on my horizon
Lit up by an eclipse
Beneath a threatening sky.

A stormbringer judgement
Like a stranger in the shadows
Hovering over this field full of bones.
And a strangeness is brewing inside of me
Coming to welcome me home.

It’s an omen of stark justice
Walking in the shadows
A looming revenger
Waiting with open arms for me.

A salt-water creek
In a dry dying land
Offering nothing but bitterness to me.
A sadness, of bad karma
The sins of the past
Waiting in this darkness of knives
At the threshold of this barren home.
© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.


photo credit: Frances Lane aurora via photopin (license)

Night-time escapade,
Adventure by moonlight.
Exploring the darkness,
Shouting out for joy
Like a screech owl
When I go moonwalking with you.

Nocturnal treasure hunt
In search of delights,
A cavalcade of madness
Dashing wildly, dancing
Like cavorting March Hares
On a moonwalk with you.
© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.


photo credit: sydney g just like the lips via photopin (license)

The gentlest caress
Of your body against mine
Leaves me trembling.
© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Solo Flight

If only I had wings

And not just the imagination of flight.

A feathered dream to be freed

Soaring high above the clouds

Sun-touched Icarus, released.


© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Innocent Sleep

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Unblemished soul not tainted yet,
Not shackled, still drifting consciousness.
Swimming in infinity,
Dwelling in the land of dreams.
Yet to make an appearance in this scene.
© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.


photo credit: Distant Reality Released via photopin (license)

“That’s the best decision I’ve ever made!”
I’ve said that phrase again and again,
So much so that I have a list
Numbered one to ten
Of my living hit parade,
The highlights of my life.

But I don’t have a list
Of my epic failures;
Because who wants to commemorate
The times they went down with the ship.

So that is why, I think,
With no flag raised to my failures
I keep forgetting and repeating
The same ones again and again.
© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.