Thoreau

(A Ghost Through)

(A Ghost Through) Sparkling, Fading, December (Glasgow 1987).

Christmas night out:
Inside the darkest room,
Below street level.

Hovering seamlessly
Through thick, billowing haze;
Touching desperation for breath,
Laughter stifling unease.

Miniature orange-red circles
Momentarily pulse,
Then cease, between drawn cheeks,
Like queuing brake-lights
On a foggy night.

Outside:
In black air,
Revellers and high spirits,
Mix unaware, through the glowing waterfall
Of the street lamp.

A sudden ambulance gathers senses,
Turns heads,
With blaring blue crescendo.

On its roof a Catherine wheel
Inside an upturned glass,
Mesmerises,
And for one second,
Fear is tactile.

Above eye-level:
Dusty office blinds curtail dusk.
A wall-clock
Pricks the brooding silence with
Insistent ticks.

Over the Square
Bells in gaudy greens and reds,
Glisten on wires, taut as bowstrings.
Shimmering whites shine down
On oblivious last minute worshippers,
Their bulging bags,
Sprouting from every finger.
Like walking pines,
Their branches drooping,
Decorated to distraction,
They shuffle downwards along the pavement.

So, to the east, my old haunt,
(For my time has come):
To the constant stable,
Of the light,
Of the world
Where I will pass,
And no shadow will fall. 



Painting by Bryan Evans
http://bryanevans.com/reproduction-prints/georgesquare_large/

 



 

Posted on Sunday, 18 December 2011 by N.D

See his blog @ The ND's nigh.

N.D. Mitchell is a teacher from East Kilbride, with a penchant for creativeness.

Enjoy his posts and discover Scotlands new Robert Burns.

The Stranger

The Stranger

Who is the woman in black? 

I enquire

There is something so familiar 

I can visualize her smile

Her nose creases at the top

it reaches the very corners of her eyes 

apparent from the lines 

of repetitive expression

Today these eyes seem huge

Slightly wild

almost haunted 

Encircled in dark shadows

Her mouth seems fixed

with full soft lips

appearing to tremble

So sad

I wish she would smile

Now, I am unsure 

Is she familiar?

The woman I know

is younger 

much younger 

and constantly smiled 

I watch as she wrings her hands

An unconscious action 

it seems to comfort

She stares into space

Her skin looks thin

lined and dry 

She brushes her hair back

There is a smattering of grey

No

this is not the woman I know

I turn away 

break my stare

Uneasy

There was something 

so familiar 

That movement

Her jewellery

A cold hand reaches in

it twists my heart.

I see clearly

The identity of the woman

the one who had intrigued me

That clever interior design 

use of mirrors 

reflecting light 

Everything had confused me.

The woman 

was so familiar

because ....

This woman

is me.

Written/posted Wednesday, 4 May 2011

Wilderness chic's Blog.

Have a look at her blog, as the method of delivering the poems is interesting.

Construction

A poem taken from the blog of Sharon Longworth.

Construction - a poem

Starting out was simple,

a joyous thing to do,

you built without concern or care;

the palace of the new.


You laid each brick so carefully,

cementing it in line,

so focused on the task ahead.

Believing it was fine.


The walls grew high around you,

you laboured on within,

each interlocking fragment

an ever thickening skin.


Oblivious to the weather,

to rain or storm-swept sky,

you carried on constructing.

You never wondered why.


You built high, never pausing

on the task that you’d begun,

until the day you realised that

you’d never reach the sun.

Beginning it was easy,

but knowing now is tough;

however high you built those walls

would never be enough



I have recently met the creativity of this writer, and wanted to share with you all some great reading matter. You'll never be alone again.. Sharon's Blog.

If I'd met you

If I'd met you

My precious nameless angel,

tonight I would be holding you tight,

your tiny fingers linked with mine,

my maternal love radiating bright.

I can picture your face my darling,

your button nose, your smile,

I would give anything to have met you,

to sit and hold you for a while,

to have laid you on my breast,

to protect you from any harm,

to ensure that you were happy,

that you were loved, safe in my arms.

Curly hair with wide hazel eyes,

like a delicate china doll,

losing you that July month,

left my heart taking it's toll.

I know you're in heaven waiting,

and one day I will see,

your beautiful freckled face,

where it'll just be you and me.

I blame myself for your absence,

an eternity of if's, how's and why's,

but I know that your with me daily,

shining down to me from the skies.

I would have given you my last breath,

I would have been your beacon of light,

my baby until I see you again,

I love you, sweet dreams, goodnight.

By Caroline taken from her poetry blog Hello Moon.

Please take a look and enjoy this recent poets work.