photo credit: .FuturePresent. snowbound via photopin (license)

The sun
Like a memory
To shine
A light
On those sins
We hoped
Winter’d help us forget.
Abandoned conversations,
Overgrown scars,
Lay alone.
But sun’s
Indecent exposure
All lost paths.

photo credit: h.koppdelaney Fun with her Dog via photopin (license)

© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.



photo credit: biernackip Falling via photopin (license)

Breath …

In … out …

Within the deep of the night,

The living heart of a life …

The weeping fragments …

Lost masterpiece of a dream …

Until a switch is flipped.

Support is withdrawn …

And they turn out the light.


© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.


photo credit: falkmo mirrored eye via photopin (license)

Turn it upside down and inside out.
View it in a different way, through different eyes
If you can. Take it apart
Like the cruel child with the butterfly
And expose the clockwork mystery of the universe
To the dispassionate judgement of the light.
© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.


photo credit: David Kutschke Blood Moon via photopin (license)

Haunted by the silence,
The darkness,
The shadows on the wall.

Hunted by the moon
That follows me
Wherever I go.
© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Sky Writing

photo credit: Natalia Medd Pacific HighWave 🙂 via photopin (license)

Grey-skied days

Circumscribe my monochrome horizon

And hem my thoughts in.

Barriers of humdrum reality,


But I long to be beyond

And blue-skied thinking.

Free again!


© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.


photo credit: Aurelien G. Photographie Iustitia via photopin (license)

I heard the news today…

But I will not let myself be destroyed.

I will not let this confusion

Set the pieces tumbling

Or pull myself apart

As they torture me.

I will not allow them the satisfaction

Of even this hollowest

Of hollow victories.

The record will not show

A trace of this action;

Their names only…

So much delusion, a forgotten history.


© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.


photo credit: zbigphotography (1M+ views) desert highway via photopin (license)

The road goes on
For mile after barren mile.
The trees are dying like my dream
In this hollow land without a soul.
The crows with skeletal feet
Grip branches devoid of leaves
And turn their heads to watch
As I pass below; in warrior garb.

My armour is faint hope,
My shield illusion
And the phantoms of the road
The companions that travel with me.
While the birds
Sit in judgement high above
Their cawing laughter
Following me.


© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.


photo credit: nathaniel s boom (topology) via photopin (license)

I have not forgiven me
For the sins of my fathers.
The original stain
On my indelible soul.
The millstone
Weight of the world,
That keeps me here
Between heaven and hell.
Tied to the mast
Awaiting the call.
© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.


With my review of the year now finished  it’s time to start on another blogging project the Advent Calendar – a post a day between now and the 24 December – and here is the first …


photo credit: Natalia Medd Bubble Wrapped via photopin (license)

Early morning rain waking me again.
The sun won’t be breaking through the clouds today.
That old weatherman has gone and got it wrong again.
He promised me sunshine and smiles, mercury way up the dial
Before I fell asleep last night. But the plan has obviously changed
Because I wake up to rain again.

Pauper’s Grave

Day 21 of my review of the last 12 months and a poem about perspectives …

Made of sticks and stones

photo credit: Mabacam What’s My Next Move? via photopin(license)

Can you hear me?
Does this emotion make a sound.
If I drop a pebble in the ocean
Will it make my father proud?
Is this disconnectedness
Our common ground.
Is this losing streak
The change in luck we need.
Is this the seed, the beginning
Of the final act, my friend.
Will I get the signal through
The interference. Will the DJ play
My dedication across the dying ground today.
What if the perspective shifts
And what was hidden
Becomes plain to see,
And what was visible
Starts to disappear,
Drowning beneath the waves.
Rifle loaded, target acquired
In the crosshairs for a headshot again
And only those from the dead ground will be saved.
Can you hear me?
Does this emotion make a sound.
Is all that remains just shadow
And dust and memory.
With every heartbeat counting…

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