Kissed By A Raindrop

 I was kissed on the cheek by a raindrop,
That disappeared into my skin,
Leaving an icy cold feeling,
Like the end was about to begin.
I looked quickly over my shoulder,
And around and then up at the sky,
No one was there, the sky was blue,
I swallowed and found my throat dry.
I took a foreboding step forward,
Scared I might freeze there in place,
The raindrop that melted within me,
I still tried to wipe from my face.
So now I trudge heavily onwards,
With my future assuredly crowned,
By a raindrop that fell from the heavens,
And a fate by which now I am bound.

What Possesses The Snail?

What possesses the snail,
To think  - Oh well,
This side of the path is no good any more,
Convinced this endeavour,
Is ever so clever,
It ventures cross-tarmac like never before.

The plants look the same,
From whence this snail came,
When compared to presumed destination,
Are there snail mating grounds?
Was it kicked out of bounds?
Or on some kind of snail-tailored annual vacation?

I’m sure this behaviour,
Would trigger a waiver,
On insurance purchased for the shell on its back,
But the snail’s not concerned,
Because I’ve now learned,
That insurance is something that snails sorely lack.

Every reason seems bad,
For this journey so mad,
But this mollusc seems manically keener,
On making good time,
As it stubbornly slimes,
To the side where the grass is presumably greener.

Corona Loner

You can't be too careful,
When it comes to your health,
And that's why I've decided,
To stay by myself.

Others may gamble,
Or trust the Creator,
But I'll live by the mantra,
Of the Self-Isolater.

Yes, they may mock me,
And call me a loner,
But I'll have the last laugh,
When they've all got Corona.

Dating Myself

I asked myself out on a date,
And I accepted,
Which pleased me no end.
I thought I would say yes,
But one can never be sure.

It turns out we were similar,
Sharing interests and tastes,
We liked the same food,
Held matching political views.
In fact I began to wonder,
If I was just being agreeable,
In order to get me to like myself.

As the night wore on,
I came to realise,
The conversation, where it existed,
Was utterly predictable.
I had nothing to say,
That I had not already thought of myself.

Back at my front door,
It seemed I was not willing,
To simply say goodnight,
And I felt I had little option,
But to invite myself inside.

Of course we know how that ends,
The sex was average,
Nothing I'm not used to.
And I woke up next morning,
To find myself alone.

The Woman in Black

Blonde hair neatly tucked behind an ear,
Sunglasses perched atop her head,
Tall, elegant, lines of simplicity,
My inclination is to glance, and glance again.
I close my eyes and sigh,
For it is rude to stare,
And paint a portait in my head.
I construct her lines and smile,
From fragments of snatched glances,
A memory game, building phantoms,
From light across the room.
No words are exchanged with ghosts,
And I ponder; this picture in my mind,
Is it any more real,
Than the woman in black?
As she turns and walked away,
Receding from my world,
And fading in my heart.

How is your day?

Dying a slow death through inaction,
Whilst people talk about nothing,
Their own aggrandisement,
The only point of consequence.
Well, that and prickly time,
Scratching past like barbed black thorn,
Leaving infectious cuts behind,
Apart from that it's fine.

On The Trail

The pressure of being back on the trail,
Committed to this road again,
By my own pressure, desire, intent.
I know what I should do,
But the anxiety grabs me,
Shakes my neck,
Implores me to run away.
And if I give up, back down,
The pressure leaves, but after,
I feel defeated, an empty coward.
So before I give up,
I must remember that feeling,
And use it to act,
To speak,
For to know defeat by others,
Is better by far,
Than to defeat oneself.

Clean Break

The beautiful smell of you,
Has lingered all day in my bathroom,
Like a phantom,
That I wish would reappear.
The perfume of your body wash,
Rolls over me in waves,
And my mind misbehaves,
Every time I climb the stairs.
You conditioner conditioned me,
To think of a wet soapy hand,
In ways you wouldn't understand,
At least not from my mind.
Your shampoo has washed away, but...
I smell the memory that you left,
And like a sweet recurring theft,
I know again, that you are gone.

Visitation

Last night I was visited by God,
(I was asleep at the time)

I was running away,
From God knows what,
Carrying something that,
I was desperate to keep from hands,
Whose intent was less than good.
And only once I had given up,
Thrown my package away,
Surrendered to fate,
Did the sky split asunder,
And He did appear.

God turned out to be pretty cool,
A middle aged man,
Smooth featured, aged well,
With a natty dress sense,
And a sparkle in his eye.

He asked me some questions,
And was looking for replies,
Which were not the obvious,
Not a gut reaction,
He wanted me to pause,
Consider all the angles,
And then deliver forth.
The consideration pleased him,
For he smiled at my words.

And at the end of this time,
With everything calm,
Threat melted away,
Everything fading,
There were no right answers,
Just a train of nurtured thought,
Whose tracks need not be laid.

Engagement

We met at a dinner party,
Two bored people talking,
'Your status?' he asked,
'Engaged,' I said.
He smiled. 'Congratulations,
To whom are you engaged?'
'Not whom,' said I. 'But what.'
His brow furrowed,
The cogs ticking,
The worst was imagined.
I dug; 'And not to, but with.'
He paused, more cogs, then said;
'So what are you engaged with?'
I smiled and thought - Humans!
We are good at puzzles.
'I am engaged,' I said,
'With the world around.'
And waved my arm expansively,
To illustrate my point.
'That's great,' he said. 'Really great.'
A pause. We sipped our drinks.
He shook his head.
'But what does it mean?!
A relationship with the world?
Or is it a job?
Or', he said, a false accusing look,
'Do you try to baffle me,
With pseudo-intellectual nonsense?'
Confusion reigns. The conversation,
At a tipping point.
Explanations can kill mystery,
Leave intrigue an empty hulk.
But I sighed, took a breath.
'We all have it,
A relationship with the world,
It is our master,
Ruling our days, our nights,
It is our most intimate relationship,
One we must explore, embrace.
There is no relationship,
With just one person,
If the world is ignored.
All life must be embraced,
Before others embrace us.'
'Okay...' he mumbled,
'I've, uh, got to find my wife.'
'Just married?' I ask; he nods.
'Congratulations!' I say,
Slightly raising my voice,
As he is lost in the crowd.

Fireseed

I stand amongst the pillars of flame,
Watching what transpires,
As the blaze rages on,
Beyond my control.
I'm not being burnt,
But I'm watching destruction,
The embers of beauty,
Which flicker with light,
As they drift to the floor.
I never saw how this started,
I only view the now,
My forensic mind assembling,
How disaster came to pass.
And as I watch, detached,
From this structure that burns,
I hope there's enough left,
The shell of something great,
That I may walk amongst it's walls,
When the smoke has cleared away.

Silent Assumptions

It doesn't look like you walk easy,
In your coloured pencil skirt,
And this smattering of awkwardness,
Makes me feel that you might blurt,
Out something inappropriate,
In social situations,
And yet despite these faux pas,
You still get invitations.
You'll have a mind that's bright and sharp,
And perhaps slightly shy,
And don't look like one for bungee jumps,
Or steak and kidney pie.
You might not have a boyfriend,
But the offers surely flow,
Whilst never quite convincing you,
So your chances come, then go.
And now you're moving past me,
In your bright and awkward way,
Lost to me forever more,
As I had nothing to say.

Back In The Narrows

I have ventured back to hell,
Sent here by faceless powers,
Yet this time in control.
Liberated by my view,
I cast eyes over a place,
That before now roared my name.
The sentient threat,
Whose grasp I dodged,
Before I had to run.
But now it's quiet here,
My purpose held aloft,
As an ethereal shield.
I pass through this place unseen,
By the thing I fought before.
And soon, my fleeting view complete,
I will run away once more,
With memories painted fresh,
But banished too,
Of that horror long ago.

Gull

I perch atop a statue,
Or maybe a lamppost,
Screaming my cry,
Yet mostly ignored.
My pinpoint eye,
Tracking all that moves,
And watching for stray sandwiches,
Or crisps,
Or a bin bag I might try to rip.
You may recoil at the thought,
Of my scavenger life,
But notice me!
My upright stance,
I preen, my eyes sharp,
I can slice through the air,
In ways that you can only dream,
I am a proud, majestic creature,
With no use for your pity.
Indeed, I perch atop my statue,
And merrily smirk,
At your humble lives.

The Laughing Duck

Yes, go on, quack at me,
Laugh in the way of ducks,
You know what I'm feeling don't you,
And yet you choose to mock,
Like the Anas that you are.
Of course, it is possible,
That I am merely projecting,
My own darkened feelings,
Onto an innocent duck,
Anthropomorphising his response,
And berating him,
For his lack of duck compassion.
But this is nonsense,
For ducks, whilst noted for their manners,
(Or lack of them),
Know nothing of my troubles,
Or my mood,
But still, it makes me feel better,
To scold a stupid duck,
And I thank the humble Mallard,
For being the unflinching receptacle,
For my mock anger,
That helps to iron out,
The ripples of my mind.

The Dead Man

Once a man came to my house,
And asked to be let in,
He looked wrought with distress,
His face was pale and thin.
I unlocked the door and waved him through,
He sat down and cried,
I watched completely helpless,
My tongue completely tied.
Presently he came around,
He dried his tear stained face,
I asked him what the matter was,
How he’d gotten to this place.

‘I am weak and broken,
My whole heart has been lost,
I’m feeling like an orchid,
Enveloped by cold frost.
I gave my life to find her,
And she threw my life away,
I’m drowning in the gutter,
And that’s where I will stay.
I’m a shadow of myself,
My soul has disappeared,
All I seem to think of,
Are her harsh and painful jeers.
I used to be so happy,
Before life was so stark,
Now I can’t face the daylight,
I only walk the streets when dark.’

I cried a tear for him myself,
And as the sun sank low,
He ate a simple meal with me,
And said that he must go.
As I watched him walk away,
I wondered of his fate,
Asking if he could be saved,
Or if it was too late.
He disappeared in shadows,
Almost fading from existence,
I wondered why he wandered so,
Was death his sole resistance?
Then I realised suddenly,
That this man's soul was used,
He was just an apparition,
He’d been dead since she refused.

Composed 2001

Exile

The sadness of an exiled man,
Consigned to his fate in a jail with no walls,
Knowing that he might, he could, and he can,
If not for a myriad of his own flaws.
Freedom all around him, but no one will look,
For eons have stolen his flair,
And placed him inside an invisible nook,
With space only for one, but no longer a pair.
He looks upon greatness, of men and their deeds,
Lighting passions thought dead long ago,
But now he must wait and repel all his needs,
Whilst the passage of time is unbearably slow.
The cruelty of seeing the days passing by,
Stretches the depths of his soul,
He’s beyond stages of watery eye,
When there’s only a faraway, ethereal goal.
He dare not believe that there is a solution,
To this rigid road that he treads every day,
That tests every fibre of his constitution,
And slashes his heart in a horrible way.
He cannot choose when this chapter will cease,
And a warmth might return to his heart,
Frightened to wish for the slightest of peace,
The smallest, most tremulous start.

The Rose Garden

The plot was brown with dusty earth,
Ragged and edged by weeds,
Yet in her mind there was the birth,
Of a delicate silken seed.

This place was new but once she brushed,
And scraped, and pulled, and cleared,
She quietened her day, and hushed,
And an image then appeared.

There were borders raised and made of wood,
And filled with a deep loam,
That worms and bugs and others could,
Regard as their new home.

And walking down the paths of gravel,
That criss-crossed in between,
The plan became unravelled,
As her mind painted the scene.

Bathed in gentle summers light,
Staked tall, looking well fed,
So many colours, yellow and white,
But dominated by deep red.

For now this is her fantasy,
But I know she'll find a way,
To realise what her mind can see,
And she'll make it real one day.


Composed 2012

Folly

1879

Unlaagered, spread-out, blind and hot,
In good spirits though, until slowly,
Realisation dawned that the black line,
Of assegai's lining the hills,
Would spell the end for those in red,
Who then, disembowelled through respect,
Would rest forever under white stones.

1914

A hole in the ground, filled with men,
Going nowhere, but lobbing shells,
And bullets and gas toward their foe,
Because nobody knew how,
To advance against machine guns.
So out of ideas, the orders came,
To march, slowly, ignoring things,
Like barbed wire or death,
Or that trenches don't move.

1939

Planes wheeled thought the air, ships sunk,
Trains exploded, tanks brewed up,
And men fought over the world.
But children starved, mothers cruelly stripped,
Of families; a teenage girl executed.
Because someone had an idea,
And convinced others, that atrocity,
Led towards something great,
As long as your eyes looked away.

1955

Twenty years of proxy war,
Preventing the spread of equality,
Where some are more equal than others,
In a jungle racked with fire,
A strategy of attrition was sold,
But without trenches this time,
Only to be shown as a fallacy,
Grasped at by those in command,
And exploded as a myth,
By an offensive called Tet,
Where more died in order that,
Nothing would change.

2003

Weapons of Mass Destruction,
They must be around here somewhere,
But never mind, we can say,
What people know; that Saddam is a Bad Man,
So we will treat him as he would treat others,
And yip with sensationalist delight,
When we finally find and hang him.
No worries for the long term stability,
Of this place or its people,
Or of the death and anguish caused,
On both sides, because now things are better,
If you like destruction and marketplaces,
That hide bombs and insurgency.

The Love Of Tech At Francis Manor

Not long after the hour of midnight, Miss Felicity Bonnington was led through the door of Francis Manor by the squire of the estate, James Headingly. The night had been stoked with barely concealed fiery passions, which during the course of dinner and dancing had smouldered in the eyes of the soon to be lovers.

Now, as James fastened the deadbolts on the door, Felicity took in the well appointed entrance hall and wondered if tonight would be the night when this classical courtship would bear corpulent fruit.

She gasped as James turned to sweep her into his arms, smiling and looking deep into her eyes. Swallowing a lump in her throat, she observed how a bluish light played over her partners face, and the sheer beauty of the moment caused a tear to run down one cheek.

'Why Felicity,' said James, his tone gentle but concern lining his face. 'What on earth is wrong?'

The young girl smiled shyly as she wiped the tear away.

'Oh do not mind my emotional ways James. It is merely the glow from the light of your BT HomeHub 5 did catch your features in a most pleasing fashion.'

'Well thank goodness this reaction was one bought on by the beauty of the situation, and not of some remorse,' James paused and grinned playfully. 'You know, my broadband speed can occasionally reach 77 megabits per second.'

'Why James!' exclaimed Felicity, blushing and pushing James away by one shoulder. 'Such talk is not suitable for the ears of a lady of good standing!' She giggled despite herself. 'If you talk of your asymmetric upload speed then I will be forced to revise my entire view of you as an upstanding gentleman.'

James laughed. 'As you wish my good lady, it shall not be mentioned. I am sure though that a woman even of your innocence must have some idea of the proportions ascribed in the ratio between upload and download speeds. Let me assure you that my assets in this regard are considerable.'

The girl blushed again, and quickly turned and looked at the rest of the hallway, as if moving away from the object of discussion would lessen her exposure to such colourful language.

'Show me the rest of your delightful abode,' she said, as if the preceding sentences had never been uttered.

James merely nodded and opened a large pair of double doors, leading to a room of rich, dark woods and plush furnishing. He gently led Felicity to a chais lounge and invited her to sit whilst he made drinks. It was as he was walking to the drinks cabinet that Felicity's eyes came to rest on a large black object mounted on the far wall.

'I say James,' she said, a tone of puzzlement in her voice. 'My eyes surely deceive me but I cannot help but think that looks remarkably like a Sharp AQUOS LED TV.'

James turned from preparing the drinks. 'Your eyes are indeed sharp, fair lady, pardon my own pun. It is the latest iteration of design, complete with NET+ Smart platform and with built in Freeview HD.'

'But that is not possible!' exclaimed the shocked woman. 'My father frequented Curries not 24 hours prior to this moment and it was stated that stock had not yet arrived from the Far East!'

James nodded sagely. 'It is true that the local merchants have been less than prompt in securing these models. I have had to resort to trading online to bring in this particular 60 inch example.'

'60 inches!' Felicity gasped. 'Excuse my raised voice but I have never seen one so large at such close quarters! When fully turned on it must be a quite magnificent sight to behold!'

'It is true that even I do not not have full control of it's functions as yet,' admitted James, somewhat sheepishly. 'It can do many astounding things that I am positive will ensure future guests experience many hours of pleasure.'

Felicity stood and made her way to the balcony at the end of the room, clutching her glass and sipping thoughtfully.

'Oh James, you have a wonderful place here. The grounds are magnificent, and so well manicured. But living alone as you do in such a location, are you not worried about intruders or poachers on your land?'

'You make a fair point, my dear, and it is to your womanly credit to think of such practical difficulties. Of course during the day Groundsman McArthur and his Alsatian guard the area, but at night a network of Lilin LR7022E4 IP Camera's record movements around the estate.'

'The Linin LR7022E4?' queried Felicity. 'I would have thought that a man of your standing would have chosen a model such as the Swann DVR4-1260 for multi-channel video surveillance.'

'I considered the Swann, of course,' answered James. 'But the Linin model offers 1080p resolution at a surprisingly low price. Since father tightened the purse-strings one cannot be too careful in ensuring one has the best deals possible.'

Upon uttering this unarguable explanation of price/performance ratio, James turned to his future wife and recognised the look in her eyes as that of admiration and longing. Taking her by the hand, he led her back into the hallway, and up the grand curving staircase towards the master bedroom, pausing briefly to notice the good lady inadvertently bite her bottom lip at the sight of the aforementioned HomeHub.

On the landing James pushed open the bedroom door, but Felicity paused, looking at an occasional table on the corner of which rested a small phone handset.

'Once again James, the elegance of your choice does you great credit.'

James paused and smiled. 'Yes, the Panasonic TG8063 DECT is a cordless phone answering system with caller ID/call waiting. It's really rather pleasant.'

'James, you arouse strange, warm feelings in me with such talk. Your BT master socket must be capable of such throughput. I cannot begin to imagine the skill with which you must handle all your equipment!'

'What is more,' enthused James, caught up in the moment. 'I purchased the triple-pack with two additional handsets so that three people could interact together on the same call, listening to what each other has to say as well as the voice of the external caller.'

Felicity's eyes hardened. 'A three-way interaction? Well, James! I have never before heard of such depravity. And to involve an innocent from the outside too! This is too much!'

'But it was all so easy to set up!' blurted James, suddenly rocked by this unexpected faux pas. 'It is surely as easy to flick a couple of additional switches for the sake of a better user experience, don't you see?'

The frown remained on Felicity's face. 'I shall find the spare bedroom tonight James. In the morning you can escort me back to my family. There is much to consider between us.'

With that, Felicity gathered herself and marched away, leaving James standing shocked beside his inactive handset. He sighed, and leant resignedly against the wall, and uttered under his breath;

'I knew I should have stuck with the twin pack.'