only takes a haiku (or four)

only takes one drink
to drown a thousand sorrows
so you take one more

only takes one voice
to drown a thousand others
so you shout some more

only takes one hand
to slap a thousand faces
so you want for more

only takes one word
to say you’re truly sorry
only takes one word

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this is not an explanation

you won’t ever get me
the paint drips, the splodges and splashes
the poetry, the way it all comes together
through absences and curiosity
sometimes I am here, sometimes not
I am zoned out, cigarette in mouth
white t-shirt, big sky landscape

you won’t ever find me
I might be here in front of you
I may even talk a little, mumble things
wander off down a meadow path
to the lake, fish from the jetty
howl at the moon, laugh at my reflection

you won’t ever own me
the money means nothing, nothing
it’s all worthless garbage, jazzed up
comes from god knows where deep inside
I puke it up, regurgitate it, spew it forth
without control, an emetic

you won’t ever heal me
wherever you hang me, try to kill me
document me, hero worship me
my life is an endless spiral of creation
I am the devil, the dark angel of dreams
the thinker, the painter, the poet, me

 

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/doppelganger/

Lament

your voice, your voice, came whispering
through the white waving heads of the cow parsley
it echoed down the sunken lanes of this fair county
from my memory to the inside of yours
a story of imprinted landscapes laid bare

your touch, your touch, once brushed
the flushed cheeks of wild red campion petals
an innocent at dawn with caressing fingertips
easing the milk from creamy white teats
tired head rested on the beast’s beating flank

your face, your face, youthfully reflected
in the yellow sun of a still buttercup morning
held up to the chin of childhoods lost and buried
where promises once held future’s sway
and a fragile breath grasped at something better

your heart, your heart, modestly imperfect
left bleeding amongst the purple honesty day
fortune’s name carved on an unmarked grave
a beggar girl sent on a wishful errand
cast adrift on ploughed and muddied fields

your song, your song, hummed to another
that chimed with the bluebell hymn of spring
would that you could ever be his lover
and that he would taste your sweet words
on the lips of an eternal starlit night

The Day After

we crowded round the party table
with neon halos in our hair
our bare feet on the kitchen floor
bread and wine to share
you said that one of us was bad
and in the morning we would see
how careless words cause chaos
our futures not so free

moving

keep moving you whisper
the only safe thing to do
through dandelion fields
once yellow with promises
where a footpath crosses
barely visible
like the secret run of a badger
diagonal from edge to edge
avoiding obstacles with booted feet
and the air blistering overhead
wide brimmed tin hats casting shade
eyes on the scything swifts
squelch of mud between steps
and over we go
the rough lichen crusted timbers
the ivy bandaged broken limb
the stream that wets the flat rocks
rippled on a seabed before man
we climb and reach up our hands
but the fruit has not yet formed
and all about us
the song of our foot fall
repeating echoes in hollows

 

no

room

our heartbeats float in whispers
dust motes pepper the air
the mottled mirror hangs askew
in it your reflection

I don’t know what you’re thinking
or even if you like me
you brought me here and now
you don’t know what to do with me

this room on the first floor
the world looking in
but you like it that way
you say you find the intrusion ‘cosy’

an overgrown cheese plant
artist’s materials on the floor
Matisse style work in progress cut-outs
all of your ‘things’

most likely I am just passing through
your life and your room
your body that you half give
reluctant as a virgin

and when you hold the door open for me
I walk down the narrow stairs
enter the street and look up
but your windows reflect only the sky