Moving On

Knowhere

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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.

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Shalott

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Water flows all around
The island in the river.
Water moving on,
Downstream.
Leaving the island behind.
Forgotten, lost,
Abandoned to the past.

© 2019 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

King of the Ruin

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photo credit: National Library of Ireland on The Commons Lead kindly light… via photopin (license)

Ruin reigns
In this kingdom of lovers.
This wasteland of flowers,
This aching place
That makes my heart skip a beat;
With the Shadow Moon ascendant
That made me complete.
For I’ve finally learned
That I needed your tide to ebb away
And maroon me here.
Now I can live again
For I’m finally free.

© 2019 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Motion/Still

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The second day of my review of the year and a poem about the universe just going on regardless.

Made of sticks and stones

photo credit: mugley wet purple dawn #2 via photopin(license)

The memory fades away like the rain
Or a dream upon waking.
Just a dream, even a dream of pain;
Its shadow will pass
No matter the length of the shadow cast.

It dissipates as the dawn breaks
And the sun rises even against the moon’s will.
Yes the world goes spinning on
Despite all the tears cried against the tide,
Motion wins still.

© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

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Forgotten

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I am small
Neglected and broken
Put aside
In favour of newer toys
Bright and shiny
Presents unwrapped
But it would be wrong
To throw me away
And misplace the memory
Of the adventures
That we imagined together
And the games we have played

© 2018 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Originally published 13 March 2016

Bogeyman

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photo credit: Marco Nürnberger The Shadow via photopin (license)

What doesn’t kill us
Makes us stronger,
What doesn’t kill us
Makes us wish we were younger,

What doesn’t kill us
Makes us wish for yesterday,
Makes us wish.
That the Shadow would go away

Leave us to our own designs
To roll the dice,
Leaves us to play the game.
Fate in own hands

Impostors by another name,
Captains of our own sinking ship.
In control of our own illusions
With mastery of all our delusions.

With all the weapons ready
At our command
We are ready
To take a stand.

What doesn’t kill us
Makes us wish we were younger
Makes us long for the Shadow
That we fear to go away.
 
© 2018 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Motion/Still

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photo credit: mugley wet purple dawn #2 via photopin (license)

The memory fades away like the rain
Or a dream upon waking.
Just a dream, even a dream of pain;
Its shadow will pass
No matter the length of the shadow cast.

It dissipates as the dawn breaks
And the sun rises even against the moon’s will.
Yes the world goes spinning on
Despite all the tears cried against the tide,
Motion wins still.

© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Escapologist

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photo credit: Derek R Goulet Beach Bird via photopin (license)

Yesterday is not tomorrow,
Memories are not today.
All those childhood tears
Yet you are not crying now.
You survived my darling,
You survived.

And those heartfelt sighs,
Too, too many goodbyes.
Teddy bears the only lonely listeners,
And birds with broken wings.
Yet you survived my darling.
You may still fly.
 
© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.