Weary

The man put down his newspaper.
His eyes were not what they once had been,
They had seen too much
Of war and hate, and change.
So he closed his eyes to shut out the dark
And slept right there in his old armchair for a while.
He dreamed of when he was younger;
He dreamt of all of his firsts,
First kiss, first dance, first nights.
Always the first and never the last,
For in his dreams
He wasn’t chained within a body that creaked.
His world was not bound by those four familiar walls
And the good times would come back and greet him.
Because in his life there had been many good times;
There had been joy, he’d known love, he’d known laughter.
For the lights of his memory might dim
But they’d never go out.
For in dreams
They came back to greet him.

© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Originally Published 22 December 2015

The Contract

Sign here
In blood
Or whatever else you’ve got
Left to give.
I’m not asking much
Just your beating heart
Or whatever else is

Pressed like wildflowers
Hidden between the pages
Of your soul.
It is everything and nothing else;
Is love.

© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Originally Published 11 November 2015

Commedia Dell’Arte (A Play of Masks)

photo credit: Stefano Montagner – The life around me Venice Carnival via photopin (license)

Forgive me,
Forgive me I did not mean to fall.
I played at being indestructible
But it was illusory, imaginary
And not the role I was suited for.
It was a game,
A game of rough and tumble physicality.
Of interchangeable masks and quick change personalities.
And beneath this surface warpaint
I was not sure
I had the fight in me
Or the stomach strong enough for the duplicity.

© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Nothing Between The Ears

I love the spaces;
The gaps in the world;
The alone times.
The wilderness of longing
For something,
The next thing, to begin.

I love the times
Spent just looking
Out the window.
At a spider building a web,
Its life hanging
On a gossamer thread.

I love the dreaming.
The planning
For world domination.
While just sitting
With a coffee
And my head in the clouds.

© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Originally Published 22 October 2015

The War, The Peace

photo credit: Kyats via photopin (license)

photo credit: Kyats via photopin (license)

Remnants of the war,
Leave the children crying in
An uneasy peace.

Bringers of freedom,
Peddle new tyrannies
Like cotton candy

And sugar coated
Lies are still lies
In the mornings light.

© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Originally Published 9 September 2015

Wildfire

photo credit: Forest nymph via photopin (license)

photo credit: Forest nymph via photopin (license)

Sets the sun ablaze,
Igniting the fire within.
Passion threatens
To overflow. As the muse
Takes hold and won’t let me go.

© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Originally Published 10 August 2015

While it thunders outside

photo credit: Closer via photopin (license)

photo credit: Closer via photopin (license)

Kiss me on the lips,
I’ll hold you in my arms
‘til the night has calmed.

© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Originally Published 18 July 2015

The Wood Nymph

Like a gentle rain

That caresses my cheek

With its sylvan light.
© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Originally Published 15 June 2015

Kingfishers

How come a nice guy like you
Hasn’t been snapped up by some girl.
How come you haven’t settled down
On the edge of town,
Put down some roots and gathered moss
With a bouncing baby on each knee.
You should be drinking tea
Amongst the shining pots and pans
Watching kingfishers dancing
In and out of the forget-me-nots
As you look out on the place
That happiness has brought you to.

photo credit: Park 23 via photopin (license)

photo credit: Park 23 via photopin (license)

 

Say, how come a nice guy like you
Hasn’t been snapped up off the shelf.
Those girls should be beating down your door.
You need a girl to calm your bohemian ways,
To come into your life barefooted
With an open heart full of love.
You need a homemaker,
A spirit shaking troublemaker
To give you a kick up the behind.
She can light a fire,
Throw some rocks around your brain
And make you focus
On something other than…
She’ll dance a ceilidh with your heart.
She’ll breathe life back,
Unfreeze your soul.

© 2015 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Originally Published 2 May 2015

After the Release

photo credit: Ian D. Keating Self Portrait #3 via photopin (license)

comes the collapse
the shuddering fall.

With the fulfilment of dreams
comes the realisation
that it’s not real
after all.
 
© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.