Clay

Day fourteen of my review of the last twelve months and a poem from April about human potential and adaptability …

Made of sticks and stones

photo credit: eleda 1 Guess the movie???? via photopin(license)

I cannot contain this existence
Within a single soul
A unified whole
When I do not know
Where these wings will take me
Or if the footsteps of the future
Will shake the ground from beneath my feet
If the environment will force me to transform
Into something different
Shocking
Luminous
Brand new
So do not ask me
Where I have come from
For how can I know
For the past has changed me
I am different than I was then
And I may change once again

© 2019 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

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Speak No Evil

photo credit: micadew Kitty Denied via photopin (license)

The rich man, the preacher,
The politician, the teacher,
Took my language away.

The treaty, the hungers,
Your lusts, this destruction
Is to blame –
For taking my language away.

The lights in the darkness.
The fires on the horizon,
The burning ice; age returning
Is the grave,
That took my language away.

Weaknesses, baseless fears,
Crying crocodile tears.
Drowning in mutually assured destruction,
While waiting for our software to update
Is the reason
They took my language away.

It was brains, it was beauty,
An oath sworn. Duty.
It was valour, it was pride.
The truth smothering me with lies;
Betrayal with a kiss.
The sinking ship,
The lion’s roar
And all of this and more.

Yet it was my silence
That let them take
My language away.

© 2019 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Summer Loves

photo credit: Edward Zulawski Wet Ballet via photopin (license)

This summer romance. This dance of light.
Must cease with the approach of night.
With the music of the seasons’ subtle change,
We must take the hand of a different lover
For the rhythm insists that our partner changes.
For while the wind does rage
And skies hang heavy with autumn rains
We will remember that this music will come again.

© 2019 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

I Was Different Then

I used to love her
But that was then,
That was a different life,
A different circumstance.

That was when someone else
Held the strings
And I danced on
To someone else’s song.

My fate was controlled
My future was not my own,
A dice throw and happenstance
Outside of my control.

But now I take my chance
Out here on my own
Where freedom isn’t a delusion,
Not a bargaining chip

Illusion, bought and sold.
I used to love her
But that was yesterday
And yesterday is gone.
 
© 2019 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Originally Published 17 August 2016

Clay

photo credit: eleda 1 Guess the movie???? via photopin (license)

I cannot contain this existence
Within a single soul
A unified whole
When I do not know
Where these wings will take me
Or if the footsteps of the future
Will shake the ground from beneath my feet
If the environment will force me to transform
Into something different
Shocking
Luminous
Brand new
So do not ask me
Where I have come from
For how can I know
For the past has changed me
I am different than I was then
And I may change once again

© 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.

Theatre

photo credit: Funky64 (www.lucarossato.com) Natural Power via photopin (license)

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.

Doldrums

Day 21 of my review of the last twelve months and a poem about a longing for change …

Made of sticks and stones

photo credit: David M Strom — Mostly Off and Very Busy Ark time via photopin(license)

Still waters
Stiller life
That threatens to drag me down.
I know a change is needed
For my sails are hanging limp like rags
And I’ve got this drifting feeling
While I’m waiting for that fretful wind to blow.
 
© 2018 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

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