Breaking Through

photo credit: Jason A. Samfield The Absences of Light via photopin (license)

The grey clouds swirl around my mind
Like a million dark thought butterflies.
A cascade of believings before the facts
Chasing me through this subconscious realm
Up and down these roads, to hell and back.
Making me forget to look up occasionally
To see that the clouds do break
The sky here and there.
And in the distance through the haze,
A hint of blue is sneaking through,
To remind me that better days are coming soon.
© 2018 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.


Starlight Rending

photo credit: The Knowles Gallery Idaho Sawtooths Milky-way via photopin (license)

This beauty is torn apart
By chaos winds
And bitter rains.
By the harshness of the times,
By the frigid coldness of black nights.
The stars who shine,
Jealously guard those distant lights.
Never sharing of the warmth
Of their distant, alien, hearts.
© 2018 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

The Silence

photo credit: janetbland Monochrome via photopin (license)

The silent ones are calling,
Memories falling like leaves
In the swirling whirlpool
Of an unravelling mind.

The silent ones are listening
For the diamonds glistening amongst
The blindness of the lies.

For the slow descent into the sanity,
The shared humanity, of the watchers
Waiting somewhere beyond the horizon
Of the conflicted mind.
© 2018 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Take It or Leave It

photo credit: One lucky guy The Burning Fire of Fantasy 1989 via photopin (license)

Cut me to the quick
To the essence of my soul,
And you will find granite
The bedrock of my being.

Lacerate me with words
From your flame-tempered tongue
And you will find me fireproof,
As resilient I stand.

Assault me with slanders,
Attack me with hurricane winds
And you will discover
I’m the survivor of storms.

© 2018 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Crumbling Precipice

photo credit: jaisril Castles of the elves via photopin (license)

There is this energy
Right here within me
And I’m poised on this precipice,
Readied to jump.
To fall, perhaps
As I attempt to fly.
All I know is that
I won’t go back
And I can’t stay here.
So there is nothing left
But to spread my wings
And try.
© 2018 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

New Vista

photo credit: JLS Photography – Alaska December Sunset – Alaska via photopin (license)

For the moment I am happy,

Though this is not some kind of bliss.

This is stasis,

A balance between humdrum monotony

And a search for a better view,

Like when sunlight through trees

Sets the dust motes dancing.

A universal vibration, a synchronicity.

It is a kindness, this wish,

This compromise

Between the now of reality

And never opening my eyes

On a vision of Nirvana.

As with eyes half-closed

I shut out the darkness.


© 2018 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

For Pennies and Passion

photo credit: keith ellwood Limoges Busker via photopin (license)

Old man sits on the corner
Accordion strapped to his being.
Fingers dancing lightly upon the keys
The squeeze box sings,
The bellows pumping.
As if for the old man
Without the music
He would not be breathing.
© 2018 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.


For six days I will live,
Just not today
If that’s okay.
On other days I will thrive,
Rise and shine
Give my best,
But not today.
I need to rest

Escape the rat race.
Engines, raw,
The blood and thunder
The fight to survive
This urban wasteland
From dawn to dusk
Until this day is
… Laid to rest.
© 2018 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.


photo credit: dharder9475 117/365: Dark before light via photopin (license)

It all falls down,
Crumbles about my bones.
Heartbreak and tears stripped away
Leaving me bare.
Nothing left but hope,
I am reborn
Knowing that you’ve entered the room.
© 2018 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

These Ships

photo credit: Immagini 2&3D The Land of the Brian Boru via photopin (license)

These ships are sailing
Leaving behind everything we’ve ever known.
The lights, the familiar sights are receding,
Departures sadness as the horizon
Hides us from home.

These boats,
These boats we are burning.
For these bones will not be buried
Beneath the turf of our island home.

The surf and the waves
And the storms on the seas,
And the funnel cloud of infernal steam.
Take me away,
Borne away from where I long to be.
© 2018 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.