Category: Creative writing

The Artist

If no man fall asunder

then let no man stand apart

the one who only had a fleeting glimpse

enjoys the subtle art

 

The paint and brush and easel stand

before the man who’s thinking

the finished piece, like artist’s hand

shakes before its sinking

 

Art – thy name is woman –

‘fifty shades of grey’

the passion of a suitor lost

should not be lost this way

 

Like a rope entangled

a life lived is like an hour

like the wild garden blooming

the plant – budding – brings a flower

 

Is it black and white – definitive

or is it made of colour

does exploration start at home

or stranger’s cottage, over yonder

 

Within the cottage stands a piece –

art no man had savoured

not ‘til artist, on his deathbed

was thy work in favour

 

When people come

they will not leave

like leaves on the ground

in Autumn

 

Oh, if only he

was here to see

the boat anchored

in his harbour

 

‘If only’ –

two words strong enough

to bring a storm

of force

 

Need not be lost

in frigid frost

stand up –

and hold the course.

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More than myself

Can I create more than myself
And if I can, must I?
Is livelihood (like solitude)
About to pass me by?

At times we associate
With a view  – a sight to see
A sense of fatal curfew –
Of our own mortality

Can I build a house to share –
Must I share it once it’s built?
As accidental as a romance
That is driving by me still

Still as can be, in situ –
What situation is
Movement denies my sense of self –
Of soft and supple bliss

Where did she go –
Where is she now?
Is one’s life a curse
To spend it without paying forward –
Could anything be worse

For time will never stay at rest –
It waits for no man – sure, not I
Hasten, hustle, hurry –
Catch up!
Before I die.

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But a second

Absence of a tryst to love

Does not abandon thee

From amorous encounters

In a world of make-believe

 

Absence of a single thought

Wants not a lesser being

Yet, in time one cannot become

What one cannot see

 

For sight to some means knowledge

Powered by the mind

If one be blind, does it decry

To be of lesser kind?

 

Yet absence of a sense to some

Means stronger touch and taste

A life lived but a second

Is the kind one ought not waste.

On By owen-tilleyIn Blogging, Creative writing, Fiction & Poetry, Life, philosophy, Poetry, Uncategorised, Writing2 Comments

Milk and butter

The evening storm
The morning sun
The shining Summer – burning

Fire red
As ice is blue
The cold wind isn’t learning

That flowers bloom
From buds of Spring
Like Autumn leaves of colour

With startling sense –
Emulsified –
Like blending
full cream milk
With melting butter.

What dreams may come
What loss I live
Tumultuous the calling

As twilight descends
In darkened sky
My memories are falling.

Seasons derive an afterglow –
From demonstrative a movement
No need to shout – the whisper’s out
The cream of seasons isn’t Winter.

The darling buds
Know brighter times
When re-growth derives the season

As we run hard
To see tomorrow’s yard –
The day for true believing.

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Love more than life

Love more than life
Tears over rain
Laughter stronger than stress  –
the weaker strain

Smile brighter
Than eye’s refrain
Arms outstretched
To face the sun

Heart so sore –
Creates a shroud
What can I do –
Who can I hold –
Where can I stand
To void the cloud

When I see the tears that fall
I think I know her not at all
Yet when I feel her touch my hand
I feel us walking on the sand

A new brand – or old one re-jigged
Arm ‘round shoulder as we stand
See laughter, tears and smiles through

You are my boat –
And I your crew.

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The Hand

I stood beside the hand I held

And saw it tell a story

It spoke of years when time was young

And the years in sun and glory

It stroked my hair, and with a twist

Touched my elbow then my shoulder

Romance became companionship

As the two of us grew older

Sometimes I thought I’d lose that hand

It left through open door

As it walked away, I turned and thought

I’ll hold that hand no more

Time passed by that open door

In a haze I saw the hand

Walk under the porte corchere

To the courtyard where I stand

I felt a crisp and ardent feeling

Indescribable to me

With fingers interlaced –

We strolled the beach-front,

To the sea.

 

first published on cosmofunnel.com

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The birds that chirp before flying

The sun and the moon
And the stars and the sky
The laughter that bursts
In the birds that chirp before flying

The water that brings
A saviour to life
After looking down
At the flowers now blooming

The essence, the ingress
Seeps through the room’s open window
The day sees the sun
Shining brightly above

Touch your palm with my hand
Soft and supple – divine
Bringing a peaceful transition
To the wings of the dove

Look right in your eyes
And your eyes right in mine
And if one feels
The sun’s less than strong
We will wait with a patience
For summer to build

And when it doth come
And is felt overhead
It becomes like a pedestal
Finally led
To a quintessential
Parenthetical being

You are my sun and my moon
You, my dear, are my sky
Come, touch my heart
I know it is beating –

For you –
My sweet, my love –
Howsomever so fleeting.

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Travails with a conscience

It came from far away

And nestled nearer home

All the while beside me

From birth to when I’d grown

 

My travails with a conscience lay

Still active – I had known

It came from far away –

Perched by my very own

 

And every time I saw her

She looked peaceful –

Like the sand

Reaching out from yonder

Saying; Come, now –

Hold my hand

 

Whenever I would touch her

She’d shiver – as if scared

I’d think, again, and wonder

Whether storm-clouds over there

 

Would rain on the parade

That had gathered, with the band

Yet my travails, with a conscience

Would reach out, and hold my hand

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From inside now

Comparing who

And what I’ve been

To the pair we will

Become – as part

 

Of a new belief

With new beginnings

That tells me

Sunshine’s here to stay –

The darkest cloud

(a world away)

 

The scent I smell –

The freshest bloom

Seasons sprout –

And lover s’ groomed

 

Harvest from

The greenest field

Success is yearned

And feelings yield

 

A new horizon

Nearer home

The reason why

I build, I grow

 

Into a violet –

Scented sweet

Without my dear

Less than complete

 

Oh, my God –

Pray, tell me how –

You sense the world

From inside now

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Loss

Loss

Oh, God,

What does it mean?

Am I alone

Yet near, beside

The one I thought

I’d have forever –

Experiences

Shared together

Now you’ve left

For better scenes

Still nothing, no-one

Comes between

The rose and orchard

We grew when

The garden bloomed –

The scent would spend

It’s time in what

Became a daze

Was it true love –

Or just a phase

Of a life spent

Lived to the full

Which force would win –

To push, or pull?

What dreams may come

And share my grief?

The one thing left

Was true belief

That one day

We will share a sky

Where we look in

Each other’s eyes

And say; I love you

Ever more

Your life is mine –

My life is yours

I could keep going

Here some more

Or calmer weather

Before the storm

Knowing that

I know not what

Is meant for me –

Or any other

That disowns

A true romance –

Who cannot walk the walk

Or dance the dance

That leads to

Disorganised array –

Found elsewhere –

A world away

Where the one true thing

Is belief

That one day

We will share a place

Looking in

Each other’s eyes

And say; I love you

Many times

Memories –

They’re always stored

Your life in mine –

My life in yours.

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