Mister Grey Sky

photo credit: Marie-Baeten The Son of Clouds via photopin (license)

Summer sky,
Obscured by grey,
The sun won’t be
Coming out today.

The clouds appear
Here to stay.
The summer sun
Has blown away.

© 2019 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

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Flood Tide

photo credit: amsterdamfan My Own Insanity via photopin (license)

If we should drown
Then we should drown together.
If these emotions should overwhelm.
If these waves should overturn,
Should capsize this flimsy craft.
Send me down to Davy Jones.

If the Arctic current of an icy sea
Should wrap its frigid limbs about the fragility of me.
I ask no more than to stretch out my hand
To feel my fingers entwined with yours.
To know, that we will go down together.

© 2019 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Lie of the Land

photo credit: Aphersis Keep out via photopin (license)

Wind-blown,
Secrets fly like the night
On wings of darkness.
To a rhythm nobody feels
And even less see.

Nature lies,
As natural as breathing.
Until death comes stealing,
Creeping, out of an obsidian glass poured.
The fatal blow dealt.

Undreamed.
Poisons and pains. Panic
Flies on the wings of a bat
Chittering, repeating its refrain, sings
Of ‘Secrets and Lies’, of ‘Secrets and Lies’.

© 2019 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Knowhere

photo credit: Marco Ascrizzi P1070949 via photopin (license)

A man took a bus
Went searching for his heart.
He’d left his home of forty years,
Packed a bag – filled it with memories
And assorted other dusts.
He watched as the driver pulled out into traffic
And joined the motorway.
He watched as everything he’d ever believed
Dwindled through the window
Of a bus bound to nowhere. Until all that was left
Was a collection of smudges on the glass.
Like a dim, shadowed, constellation of stars.

© 2019 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Where I Begin

photo credit: Isengardt Sleet via photopin (license)

The chill shock of the spring rain
Soaks me to the skin.
To the bones of me;
The place where the I begins.

Rooted in this barren ground
Petrified by the memories,
And the past I have buried within.
For I prayed to hold my mysteries

And take them to my grave.
For what does man have but his sins.
His secret companions in the dark
With the fatal poison of their sting.

© 2019 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.