Runaway Train

There is an energy within me,

A buzz.

It cannot be contained or bound

By structures or hours.

It does not acknowledge the rules of society,

It moves with an ever increasing head of steam.

Faster and faster

Pulling everything it passes into the vortex

Created by its wake.

A screaming maelstrom of chaos,

This hush.

 

© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Originally Published 6 April 2015

Floating Away

photo credit: forum.linvoyage.com Bright sunset at Andaman sea via photopin (license)

photo credit: forum.linvoyage.com Bright sunset at Andaman sea via photopin (license)

In my mind I’m on a beach somewhere,

Warm seas, with azure waves tempting me.

Gravity has no hold. I have no cares

I have escaped. My mind has set me free.

 

© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

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Resonance

photo credit: Natalia Medd Passage via photopin (license)

photo credit: Natalia Medd Passage via photopin (license)

Within the sadness; madness of this world,
Silence can sound the loudest
Within the chambers of my mind.
 
© 2016 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Mindspace Blown

Day 29 of my review of the last twelve months and a poem about the gap between my ears…

Made of sticks and stones

photo credit: Bible Verse Photo Medical Cellblock with Verse (Free HI-RES) via photopin (license) photo credit: Bible Verse Photo Medical Cellblock with Verse (Free HI-RES) via photopin(license)

One must have a mind of spaces.
Imagining windblown silence
In a meadow, summer ripe with butterflies.
In between the hustling tornadoes
Of traffic jams and parking fines.

Or the pin prickle caress of spring rain
Washing skin cleaner than baptism,
One’s soul dancing with the divine.
Between inhale and exhale, seeking
A sanctuary for the urban mind.
 
© 2016 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

 This poem is the first to come from a series of five prompts from ‘How to Write a Poem’ by Tania Runyan

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Take Off This Uniform

Day 19 and a poem for the demons inside

Made of sticks and stones

photo credit: Bulk . . . Son of Hulk via photopin (license) photo credit: Bulk . . . Son of Hulk via photopin(license)

Shadow sound
Faint echoes screaming
Legion. Demon?
Cacophony of whispers;
Half-formed; dying;
Lovers sighing.
Chorus repeating,
Round and round and round,
This Babylon of voices.
Phony wishes,
Air kisses,
Rise and fall orgasm, SCREAMING!
With the phantasm lurking
Within.

Tremors,
After-shock, murmurs,
Susurration.
Bizarre music,
The sighing of a pneumatic drill,
Rhythmic,
Its comforting embrace
Is like a burbling brook;
A recognisable landmark.
Sacred, calm, centred
Within this swirling moonscape.
This alien bazaar, human shrieking,
Speaking, whispering, sighing …
Are you feeling ok?

 
© 2016 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

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Mindspace Blown

One must have a mind of spaces.
Imagining windblown silence
In a meadow, summer ripe with butterflies.
In between the hustling tornadoes
Of traffic jams and parking fines.

Or the pin prickle caress of spring rain
Washing skin cleaner than baptism,
One’s soul dancing with the divine.
Between inhale and exhale, seeking
A sanctuary for the urban mind.
 
© 2016 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

 This poem is the first to come from a series of five prompts from ‘How to Write a Poem’ by Tania Runyan

 

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Mantra

photo credit: mantra via photopin (license)

photo credit: mantra via photopin (license)

It’s not worth the worry.
It’s not worth the stress.
It’ll soon be over.
This is as bad as it gets.

© 2015 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Originally Published 25 July 2015

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Take Off This Uniform

Shadow sound
Faint echoes screaming
Legion. Demon?
Cacophony of whispers;
Half-formed; dying;
Lovers sighing.
Chorus repeating,
Round and round and round,
This Babylon of voices.
Phony wishes,
Air kisses,
Rise and fall orgasm, SCREAMING!
With the phantasm lurking
Within.

Tremors,
After-shock, murmurs,
Susurration.
Bizarre music,
The sighing of a pneumatic drill,
Rhythmic,
Its comforting embrace
Is like a burbling brook;
A recognisable landmark.
Sacred, calm, centred
Within this swirling moonscape.
This alien bazaar, human shrieking,
Speaking, whispering, sighing …
Are you feeling ok?

 
© 2016 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Lost and Found

I was lost

Until you found me.

Picked me up,

Dusted me down,

Gave me a reason

Turned my life around

And it only happened

Because I stopped

And listened to myself.

 

© 2015 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.