What We Can Learn

photo credit: Howard J Duncan Basho’s Pond via photopin (license)

What can we learn from the silence,
From the absence of the thunder and roar.
From the separation of the sense from the feeling,
The search for a meaning beyond the blue door.

What is the substance of existence,
The warp and the weft, the disparate threads.
Is the heartbeat just a Morse code call to the dying,
This mortal stardust’s flickering dread.

© 2020 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Polymorph

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All I need is to walk away
From this darkness and disbelief.
To wake up from this dystopian dream
And reinvent my religion of the self.
Setting the wheel to spinning again,
Taking my chances with this
Russian roulette of a life.
For it feels like a revolution
That nobody fought for, but still in which
Everything worth loving got swept away.
The landscape has become a nightmare I don’t recognise
And all I can do is reinvent myself
Leave the wreckage and walk away.

© 2020 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Union

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May our differences unite us.
May they be the bricks and the mortar
Of the road that we walk upon.
May they provide us with the tools we will use
As we build a home for the future.
In a world of many colours
Illuminated by only the one sun.

© 2020 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

The Essential

photo credit: Petri Damstén Anxiety via photopin (license)

I thought I was lost
Separated from what I thought I knew,
From what I thought was certain.
Everything had been turned upside down
By something too small to see.
That has moved through existence
Like a shock wave rearranging the fabric
Of the alternate reality within which I was held prisoner.

But I was just adrift, alone within the room in which I dwell.
Yet still, here, the essence of me.
A viable entity, arms, legs, emotions;
I possess a voice to cry out in the vacuum.
I am motion, I am a vehicle of recovery
Beaten but not broken.
Sheltering from the rain, numb to the pain
A survivor of the storm.

© 2020 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Stealing Home

When I’m gone,
There’ll be no point
Calling me.
For there’ll be no one here.
There’ll be no one hanging on
The line.
No one waiting around
This time.
No, not this time.

For you’ve been stealing my home
Right out from under me.
Torn the foundations apart.
Along with all security,
My heart –
Torn apart.

The walls tumbling down,
All-around
Like tears falling to the ground.
And all that is left
Is the ruin of a broken home,
A shattered heart.

© 2020 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Nectar

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Flower stems bend in the breeze
As they tease sensuously
The fluttering butterflies and dancing bees
That flit in and out of the nectar’s all-consuming embrace.

The warmth of the sun provides the melody
To the meadow lark’s song.
From morning, through noon
Until the twilight’s last hurrah.

© 2020 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

The Weaving

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Spun light glistens welcoming a gossamer dawn.
There is birdsong if you listen within the forest’s heart
While the breeze plucks at the threads of the weaving like they were the strings of a harp.
Green and gold glimmering, in the dawn light’s shimmering
From shadow to light. Mirroring the rise and fall of waltzers waltzing around and about the forest floor.
Dipping toes in pools of gold, those first to escape the grip of the night
Kissing the lips of this visitor emerging from out of the dark.

© 2020 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

First Light

photo credit: _paVan_ Sunrise via photopin (license)

The curve of the earth hides you from view.
A whole new existence beyond the horizon
Dawning exclusively for my pleasure.
A shimmering goddess of a day, you are possibility
Slowly unfolding your wings, taking flight
Banishing shadows saying goodbye to night.

© 2020 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

‘Til I’m Nothing …

photo credit: Lawrence.Braun I Need You via photopin (license)

Skin to your skin,
React to your touch.
You burn me with your fire
I need you so much.
Emotional conflagration
Ashes and dust.

I am nothing
Except lingering lust.
You take and you take
Control me with a touch.
Luscious corrosion
I succumb to this religion of rust.
Consume me with passion
‘Til I’m ashes and dust.

© 2020 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Into the Blue Sky Thinking

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Visions of the shimmering sea
Keep coming to me,
Waves reaching out beckoning me on.
While gulls circle close to the cliff top
That stand tall, into the blue.
Cirrus and nimbus scurry
Like soft downy pillows for the sun
To rest his head upon.
These visions of the sea
Are a balm to me.
Carrying me away
For an hour or a day.

© 2020 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.