Yield

photo credit: Vitor Pina Dancing with the waves via photopin (license)

I yield to you.
Give up my power
To your song.
Bind my hands
And tie me to the mast,
Lest I be lost.
Hold me close
In your song.

© 2019 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Rank (Snakes and Ladders)

And all the king’s horses
And all the king’s men
Couldn’t put Humpty
Together again

Looking up at the little people,
Up there, at the top of the wall.
I’m wondering if it is just
Because they are far away,
Or if they really are that small.
Yet I know that they’ll never look down
For they like to pretend they are untouchable,
To pretend, that they’re in control of it all.
And why would they threaten that pretence
Why would they let us see,
That they’re just scared little boys
Frightened they’ll fall.

© 2019 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Ejector Seat

photo credit: romainguy Electric Storm via photopin (license)

I want to get off,
I want to get out.
I want someone to explain
What it’s all about.

I want to get on,
I want to get up.
Without somebody trying
To pull me apart.

I want to get in,
I want to get it.
I want somebody
To have a heart.

I want to get back,
I want to get back,
Press the reset –
Back to the start.

© 2019 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Chiaroscuro

And so I reach the last day of my review of the last twelve months, ending with a poem about desires that go bump in the dark …

Made of sticks and stones

photo credit: The Manic Macrographer Low Key Portrait via photopin(license)

Your light and dark plays with me.
Essence of night is the fragrance you wear.
Silence is the word on your lips
As with a gaze unwavering you stare
Succeeding again at unmanning me.

Twilight and rain clouds wrapped about you
Like a mantle of darkness
You are shadows, a certain chill in the air.
An absence, a sickness,
An addiction I keep on returning to.

You are the bones, the secret within.
The whisper deep underground
Forever echoing in the dark.
You are the fatal cry. The final sound.
I am your victim. You are my sin.

© 2019 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

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Headstone

Day twenty-nine and a poem about shouting out loud …

Made of sticks and stones

photo credit: Dru! Sloppy Plodding via photopin(license)

Scream
At the top of your lungs.
Scream
Out loud
Let your voice be heard.
Make a noise,
Make a racket,
Make the words on the page rattle.
Do not go gentle,
Do not go quiet,
Do not let them forget
What they’ll be missing.
Curse loudly,
Love louder.
Live with passion.
Do it all with the whole
Of your heart.
 
© 2019 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

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I Will Not Go Down

Day twenty-eight of my annual review and a reminder never to give up …

Made of sticks and stones

photo credit: Mat Che DIAPOSITIVE 1.2 (CHILDREN OF THE LIGHT) via photopin(license)

“there is a crack in everything,

that is how the light gets in.”

Leonard Cohen

I will not go down,
These depths must be the deepest.
While this darkness is at its completest
I will hold fast. I will make a spark.
I will last out until dawn.
Until I can feel the warmth and the light
And this body becomes real to me again.

© 2019 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

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Time Lies

Day twenty-seven of my review of the last twelve months and a poem about time …

Made of sticks and stones

photo credit: lightfetcher dandelion via photopin(license)

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.

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Intimate

Day twenty-six of my review of the last twelve months and a poem from last December about snuggling up – after all that’s what winter was designed for …

Made of sticks and stones

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.

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