Hello Yesterday

photo credit: sleepyjeanie Defined by Time. via photopin (license)

photo credit: sleepyjeanie Defined by Time. via photopin (license)

Hello yesterday, have you returned.
That dress is faded now
But recognisably the same.
And the shame I feel in your presence
Has never, ever, changed.
You are the lover I can never leave.
The paramour I can’t be parted from.
You are Yesterday. My regret.
 
© 2019 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Originally Published 31 January 2017

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Midnight Wandering

photo credit: khalid almasoud Thinking after midnight via photopin (license)

Not a breeze stirs the waters.
Time seems frozen by this summer heat
As sweat wraps me in its sickly embrace.
I’ve gone walking at this midnight hour
In the shadows beneath the trees.
I’ve gone searching, searching for something
I can’t remember. Yet I know I’m lost.

© 2019 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Back to the Sea

photo credit: Andrew Gibson. Golden Arch via photopin (license)

I want to go back to the sea
For the sea is calling to me.
The place where the waves meet the sand
Where we went walking and I held your hand.
I want to make sense of it all
And there the big sky makes me feel small.
For it is only there
That I understand the true scale of my cares.
Only there do I understand what it all means.
Only there, holy water washes me clean.

© 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.

Flight of the Moon

photo credit: Luz Adriana Villa A. Noche de luna llena – Full moon night via photopin (license)

Shimmering satellites
Sleep in an unwoken sky.
While primitive thought creeps
Through shattered streets.

Slithering dreams and unkempt memory
Disappear from sight.
Take to the wing.
When at dawn night withers and dies.

© 2019 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Nearly Midnight

photo credit: Daniel Ari Friedman Markov Blanket via photopin (license)

Sickening images puncture the illusions of my dreams
They call it reality. Violence and destruction, as poisonous as it seems
And they call it progress. Raping foreign lands
To plant a flag and claim dominion over minerals buried in the sands.
And they call it evolution, to sift out what is living
Because where’s the profit; when a man in Hong Kong
Is willing to pay a million for a freshly harvested human heart.
They call it economics; cutting down the forests; tearing the Earth apart.

© 2019 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.