Time Lies

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The clock ticks,
Time passes at a steady rate.
The Past wanders from sight,
Disappears quietly from the cavalcade
Into the shadows to die.

The Present crawls like a caterpillar
Consuming everything that it can.
Unaware of all, except now –
Secure in its form.

While Future promises
That it will turn unseen,
Like a confidence trick
Into a wondrous butterfly.
That flutters transcendent, glorious for a day…

© 2019 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Nemesis

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Fading, failing,
Faltering footsteps. Evading
The moment of truth.

© 2019 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Signal Fires

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Your deepest desires
Have undressed me,
Brought me here.
They’ve tied me to your soul
With an ache that won’t let me go.
Restrained by emotions that flame
Eternal, a flame that’ll never be consumed;
Forever burning, on and on.
An inferno dressed in velvet, draped with silk.
Lips parting; tongues of flame.

© 2019 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Emergence

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The Sun’s dalliance with the dark spaces
Is her slow dance with creation.
It is a sinuous exploration
Into the heart of a forgotten continent
Buried beneath the detritus of the past.
From the flotsam and jetsam
The wreck of winter, Spring
Emerges, a miracle from the dirt.

© 2019 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Vampyre

Flickering, fading,
This deception of being,
Absence of feeling.
Haunting
Half-life in the half light
Of a receding world.
Distances are growing.
The only sounds now
Are inarticulate groanings
And soulless moaning.
That mean nothing to me.
For a living being
I’ve ceased to be.

© 2019 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Wishing Well

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If I had a wishing well that worked
That made all my dreams come true.
What price would I have to pay
For making all those wishes reality?
What would it take, surely
More than pounds, shilling and pence.
Would it ask for blood from a stone?
What sentence would fit my crime?
Would it cost me my freedom,
What payment would wishing demand?

© 2019 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

This Fortress

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Calm –
I do not mean you calm.
That is what the world says
When the world speaks to me.

When car horns growl
And strangers bare fangs
In laughter and smiles.
When deadlines are wielded like weapons

And the second hand slices through the air
Like the judgement of a guillotine blade.
When the rising anger of sound batters the stones of my soul
Until the inevitable crash of the bricks of this fortress to the ground.

Calm –
I do not mean you calm.
That is what the world says
When the world is becoming too real for me.
 
© 2019 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Theatre

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Colours
Bleach out, fade.
All withers, turns grey.
Dust gathers
Between the cracks in time.
Decay
Gathers pace, even,
Before the curtain falls.

But it is a new broom
That is all.
The scenery changes,
Some of the actors too,
But the characters
Are familiar,
Same old plotlines too.
You will see after all
That nothing’s new.
 
© 2019 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Vagabond

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I cry for the moment
The parting of ways,
The frost-bitten footsteps
That led me away.

For the falling of leaves
In an absence of tears,
A metaphor for solitude
That lasts through the years.
 
© 2019 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Walking On

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Don’t stop, or look around
Don’t let emotion slow you down.
Keep moving honey,
Ignore the laughter of the clowns.

Don’t let the distractions
Distract you from your goal
Or break the rhythm of your steps.
For you’ve come so far

But there is still so far to go.
Don’t let the headwinds
Cry havoc with your mind
And never stop being kind to yourself.
 
© 2019 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.