Janus

photo credit: f_lynx two… via photopin (license)

When I look back through past days
Back at the twilight and the dark
Or forward at the approaching dawn.

I recall nothing more than the rhythm of my life
And that I’m the one who changed.
Yes I’m the one who got away.
 
© 2018 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

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Cloud Nine

photo credit: liquidnight 5/365 Outtake via photopin (license)

Foolish notions like forever
Clouded my judgement,
When the only reality was
The now.
All that mattered was
That I should have taken
You in my arms,
Pressed your lips
To mine.
 
© 2018 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Say Goodbye

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Lamplight hovers over us in the fog
Like flying saucers in the forest could have done
On any given night, back when we were in love.
The heartbreak is knowing what you want to say
If only the words could prise apart those lips.
Those lips which I still long to kiss.
The kisses which it will be an ache to miss.
 

© 2018 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Mute

Is there a mute button on life?
Can we find a dog that doesn’t bark in the night?
Is there a place, an oasis of calm,
Some place to just be. Without the pressure of living.
A palm tree hideaway for us.
Away from the fuss. The stress of existence.
A barefoot place – beyond the border of the map.
Where there’s none of this crap.
Where we can thrive instead of just living.
 
© 2018 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Trip the Light Fantastic with You

photo credit: Trix: Pierre qui roule ……. Impresionante Sara Baras y toda su compañía via photopin (license)

Your motion in that moment
Is sinuous, movement neverending.
You dance the figure for infinity,
Sketching out your theory of everything
With your body. A prism you have become,
Your silhouette a rainbow as light explodes through you.
I am a spectator at the beginning of the universe
As time stops. Before my heart beats again.
I am a spectator at the beginning of the universe,
As with the electricity of your touch
I come to life; I breathe again.
 
© 2018 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Shortest Day

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The golden orb hangs low but does not dispel the gloom

That cloud my senses. Of a world spinning wildly beyond the borders of my room.

This cellular existence, the prison bars are of my own making,

Trapping me within a gravity, making me blind to the chances I could be taking.

 

© 2018 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

 

 

Intimate

photo credit: Lauren via photopin (license)

Let’s get intimate me and you.
Sit down in some comfy nook
Snuggle down before a fire
And talk about the stars and our favourite books.
Let us talk for hours and hours
About autumn leaves and summer showers.
Until the candle’s burned to darkness;
Holding hands becomes as natural
As breathing out, as breathing in.
Until we share our thoughts of a secret kind.
Let us get intimate me and you
Until daylight has replaced the dark of night.
 
© 2018 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.