photo credit: TinkMisChief Tink’sSunsetBeachGlory via photopin (license)
The shivering tide
Wanders across the dawn sands.
Leaving us alone,
Undisturbed amongst the dunes.
Our secrets to keep us warm.
© 2020 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.
Day six of my review of the last twelve months and a poem about a long distance relationship …
photo credit: Rodrigo_Soldon alvorada via photopin(license)
Moon ‘I’ floating on a sea of clouds –
Greeting the fire that waits just beyond the horizon.
I leave the watch of my Midnight Ones to you
O child of flame, my fierce burning son.
I glimpse your restless desire
From across the depths of heaven
That fate decrees should break my heart, asunder.
I forever in the shadow of the passion
That gives your hours their meaning.
Bearer of my hopes and fears I give breath to you
That break the silence of the dark with unblemished light;
As I lay down my head, and close my eyes to dream.
© 2019 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.
Moon ‘I’ floating on a sea of clouds –
Greeting the fire that waits just beyond the horizon.
I leave the watch of my Midnight Ones to you
O child of flame, my fierce burning son.
I glimpse your restless desire
From across the depths of heaven
That fate decrees should break my heart, asunder.
I forever in the shadow of the passion
That gives your hours their meaning.
Bearer of my hopes and fears I give breath to you
That break the silence of the dark with unblemished light;
As I lay down my head, and close my eyes to dream.
© 2019 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.
photo credit: KennethMoyle Still Waiting …. via photopin (license)
I sense the electricity
I know you are there.
Somewhere out in the ether.
I feel the anticipation,
The trepidation.
The wonder and the pain,
Of hearing your voice,
A connection is made.
Yet knowing that an ocean
Separates us
And you’re not here by my side.
© 2018 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.
photo credit: phil hirst Enter the Forest via photopin (license)
We got lost upon the way,
Separated, you and I
At some bend in the road.
For when I looked ahead
You were no longer there.
There was just the solitude
Cast by the shadow of the trees
That led along the untrodden path;
Deeper into the dark
Way through the woods.
© 2018 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.
Reaching out for something
As if it might be
Poisoned, the antidote
Is not getting you through.
Just tied up in the wires
As they tighten the screw.
No one is fighting for you.
The desires are passion crimes
And nothing will get you through.
Searching for anything;
Most holy last orders
With spirits at the bar.
Making confessions
As fast as you can
But it won’t save you.
Reality is bruising,
The ghost don’t believe in you,
And nothing is an illusion.
Holding on to nothing
As if it’s a lifebelt,
That’s going to save
You from calling out –
But nobody’s listening,
It’s a pointless wish list.
Nobody is breaking through.
The mirrors are all one way,
Nothing is echoing back to you.
© 2018 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.
Originally published 21 June 2017
photo credit: ebayink Tablet use 2 via photopin (license)
Modern life is like
A church, the religion
Electronica.
The prayer book, needs due reverence.
Wi-fi now the word of God.
© 2018 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.
photo credit: Loneliness Marc Nadal Love Sadness 11 via photopin (license)
I can’t pretend I don’t regret
The way I broke the moment into pieces.
That the last I saw of you
Was just a shattered reflection
Of what had gone before.
I was brought up to be honest
But surely there was a version of the truth
Or a kinder lie
That could have protected
A little of what we’d shared.
Would it have been ignorance or innocence
To have left you sleeping
On the morning of the day
That a part of me died.
© 2018 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.
Originally published 28 February 2016
Ethel looked at the photo it was the only image she had of her with her siblings. They were sitting on a bench happy and together. It had been taken about six months before the bomb, before their house had been destroyed by the doodlebug. Their parents had been killed, but somehow the three children had survived, hidden in the cupboard under the stairs the fireman had found them huddled together shivering and crying, but alive.
Ethel remembered the place they had been taken too, the place where all the children cried throughout the night, shouting for a family that would never come back for them. Eventually the new parents came, but they were old and felt three kids were too much and so they just took her. She last saw Gladys and Johnny when she had been taken away kicking and screaming by her new family. And to this day she could still hear Johnny’s screams as she taken away. The Micklewhite’s were not bad people, they looked after her well, but they were just not her Ma and Pa and it was like having a limb removed growing up without Gladys and Johnny.
She was eighty now and she had had a good life. There had been two husbands, both now in their graves. She had raised four children and there were eight grandchildren to visit and fuss over her. But all that mattered as she sat alone in the coffee shop nursing a strong cup of coffee as the world went on its merry way outside the window, was that in a moment the door would open and Gladys and Johnny would come in, they would be together again for the first time in seventy-five years.
© 2018 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.
Originally Published: 17 March 2014
