In Between Rounds

I have worn my skin down to its last stitch

and I am now rewarded with a rest

but I must still soak in the coach's pitch

and then put their methods to the test.

So whilst I try to refill my lungs

I cannot lay back and close my tired eyes

for they must closely observe frantic tongues

which attempt to devise plans and advise.

The break on the muscles is hard on the brain

and now my body dreads the next assault

knowing that it must yet withstand more pain

my brain wonders when this onslaught will halt.

A break can be welcome in between rounds

but the prospect of more scares and confounds.

The Safety in Woodlands

My branches are old and worn

but they will always hold you.

My leaves are battered and torn

but they'll always shelter you.

My trunk may be coarse and thick

but it'll always support you.

My thorns may have a sharp prick

but they'll always defend you.

My roots may be deep and tied

but they'll always anchor us.

My reach may be high and wide

but I won't lose sight of us.

My forests will always home

the hungry hearts of the wild

with many trees we're not alone

and the soily earth is our child.

Skipping Stones

Skipping stones, how you bounce and bound

to some unknown place to be found

using each wave as a spring board

as I count up how I have scored.

My ripples are stretching quite far

and now I wonder where you are

hoping you've reached another coast

where your bounce will be missed the most.

The Words and the Wind

Every time I attempt to turn the page

the wind picks up and defies my wishes

so I'm stuck with incessant words of rage,

the overturned corner sways and swishes.

So I take a tighter grip of my pad

and I wrench the page away to the next

with its clarity not feeling as bad

I fill it with my sentiments less vexed.

But when I lift my pen to start anew

the pages all flicker back to the start

when I would let my sorrow in words brew

and the heavy wind matched my heavy heart.

And yet I'm sure that the wind will die down

and give my writing less reasons to frown.

Fraying

Threads intertwine so intricate and fine

from their bonds making solidarity

with each glistening string keeping in line

working together in clear parity.

And what they create is something so warm
that they keep the coldest winters at bay

together weathering the harshest storm

until thickly knitted clouds go away

These closely made ties can last forever
if all united and no ends are loose

but should one line succumb to the weather

they'd bend and break like their initial truce.

Wrapped together our hearts could travel

but one weak link would make us unravel.

The Beautiful Death

The Beautiful Death.

I often dream of you.

I'm not suicidal,

I'm not a quitter,

and I'm not even sad,

but is it not better to finish life

with happy thoughts

rather than to let despair one day defeat you?

I want to write my own destiny

rather than to become a victim of age;

to be time's slave.

I stand at the hilt of a mountain

looking down on the sea

where the sunlight glistens on the ripples

of fluid flowing glitter.

The fall looks so inviting,

I want to soar strongly

with miles to fall before I sleep.

But not today.

I will write my own beautiful death,

but I have many more years to enjoy my breath.

Then Again

Discontent

with this content.

My ink is spent,

my nib is bent.

Satisfied

with how it's dried.

This sunken tide

will soon subside.

Transfer

This is just a transfer

from mind to paper

and though you don't know

what I'm thinking about

I do,

and so the process lightens me.

And though the art

is scarce in here

I'm proud,

because it makes me feel stronger.

And though you'll never know

my thoughts when in this state,

I'll soon forget

and all will be well with a cleansed page.

Jewellery

Jewellery worn like shiny shackles,

they're an ostentatious burden to wear

and for each hardship their soft shine tackles

another comes, twice as heavy to bear.

Yet they could have memory and meaning

for understated beauty shines brightly.

When there's much more to them than their gleaming

you should keep them close and hold them tightly.

Chain around my neck, soon you will choke me.

Ring around my finger, your circle will break.

It was your irrelevance which broke me

when I realised your shine was fake.

Let me lie alone, unburdened and bare

living without unnecessary care.

Cigarette

I am burned out

as you drain the life out of me;

but I can see that it's killing you.

When you take me in your hands

I don't feel loved, just needed.

You'd quit me if you could

and yet I'm so addictive

to place in your mouth

and take long hard drags.

I am a cigarette.

Indulge,

and die young with me.

#Parachutes

Parachutes floating

must eventually sink down;

it's the way of life.

Fusion

I'm tired of feeling like a ghost

when other mortals show their flesh

and though our boat had left the coast

the water is no longer fresh.

I can't pretend to like a group

whose loutish manners make me sick

and when you always move the hoop

I know my aim will never stick.

So let my ghost haunt your daytime

floating in your ocean of guilt

and should I pretend to be fine

I pray your target is well built.

I want to burn all these loose ends

and make sense of my confusion

eradicating the false friends

and letting our threads get fusion.

Parallel Lines

You and I are parallel lines

which share the same direction

but not recognising the signs

we both miss out on affection.

For parallel lines never touch

when all they want is to converge

and to be this close can be too much

when they're willing their lips to merge.

You are in the same form as me

so I know you feel it too

but we know that a cross can't be

and we're so stuck with what to do.

So we will continue our ways

to somewhere perpendicular

whose lines touch us, then stays

more personal and particular

Grains

Of the many million grains of sand

I pick up one and place it in my hand,

disregarding a desert's worth of grains

I hold this one clear through life's trials and strains,

and should the ocean wash beaches away

I know that in my hand this one piece will stay.

Of the many million grains of sand

your grain stands out, everlasting and grand.

Foaming

How your vicious waves crash against the rocks

like one thousand galloping white horses

curling overhead and spraying my locks

rendering us victims to the sea's forces.

The salt soaks deep into our weathered skin

and washes away the trickling beads of sweat

as your roaring voice is guiding me in

sounding so tempting, fiercely wild and wet.

The sunlight glistens on your highest peaks

somehow attracting me to your danger

until I'm lost in your colour for weeks

and I regard the land as a stranger.

I want your tides to grip and pull me ashore

for your savage beauty is one I adore.

Castaway

Sink down to the bottom with me

and discover another world,

we could share this moment and be

as if we had been born anew.

The finer things in life come free

for love's not a crisp note nor pearled

and true happiness has no fee;

at the bottom my smile is true.

Let us now to the surface float

to breathe in the freshest of air,

finding somewhere safe and remote

we can be standed together.

Do not end us a rescue boat

for we live without a care

with our plots happy and unwrought

the future's as bright as the weather.

Ebullience

Today everything felt clear,

I had nothing to fear

and everything made sense.

My head that once was dense

was now light and elated.

I don't know if this was related

to the sun melting my heavy head

or music singing thoughts to bed

but I wanted this focus to last

and to forget about the past.

Today I could run many mile

and still manage to smile.

Today I sensed a shift

that allowed my mind to drift.

I hope this feeling stays a while.

Everything In Its Right Place

Please do not tip my scales

don't twist my rubix cube.

Do not move my jigsaw piece

and don't reset my sails.

Please do not right my wrongs

or change my equations.

Do not alter my meter

or the content of my songs.

For I have found clarity

in a life of parity.

I feel so hapy and yet strange.

To keep demons at bay

I know this balance must stay

and so nothing I will change.

I understand everything:

I no longer want to sing

and nor do I want to cry.

My mind has been put to grace.

Everything has found its place;

now I must understand why.

Racking Hat

I want to hang up my hat

but I fear that I'll get stuck

and that I'll never get back

if I'm too close to the hook.

So it's better to keep close

to the things I might not need

and so I'll keep on my clothes

and wont let their red threads bleed.

But I know there'll come a time

when my head may get too hot

and in discomfort I'll dine

rushing to finish my pot.

I want to hang up my hat

for my burdened head needs rest

and should I not get it back

then the hook must have been blessed.

A Resonate Sonnet

The world rests on textures intertwined

with life's soft harmonies of highs and lows.

Alone so humdrum, beautiful they bend,

dulcet ambience with loud crescendos.

Genres spread over different continents

each with unique sounds to love and behold,

filled with different lyrics and instruments

in magnificence, understated yet bold.

The chorus of our time repeats itself

and we grow nostalgic towards the past

when this sonic beauty was its wealth;

an abundance of long notes meant to last.

But every song must fade out to silence

when drowned out with man's destructive violence.

Cataclysmic Scales

A rabble of ants are congregating

around a grubby piece of human waste.

They'd get crushed if they stood about waiting

so they gorge on its worth in sudden haste.

Footsteps rumble like one thousand battle drums

alerting them that they must end their feast

and so they carry off their atlas crums

scurrying away from the frightful beast.

But alas thir steps did not match his stride

and their soles dropped under his dark sole's shade

on the day thousands of families died

leaving one thousand more broken and frayed.

A simple walk, meaning nothing at all

is a disaster to something so small.

Between the Lines

Reading back

on scribbled sentiments

I observe

how situations, subject

and success

can so quickly alter

between where one line ends

and another one begins.

Insignificance

The magnitude of mountains make the trees

seem like mere foliage lightly scattered

with striped planes flying by the size of bees

and people are ants; scurrying, battered.

A staircase of boulders leading to bed

at the very bottom of the vast sea

where the fish will lightly lay their head

when the time come that they must cease to be.

Meanwhile, the land we roam seems so little

when framed with this magnificent landscape

and we are just cells, bounding and brittle

which barely define how the world takes shape.

Insignificance is such a real view

so does it matter what we decide to do?

Cavalcade

I will let your taillights guide my road

in the dead of night, following your tread

until I arrive at my engine's abode

and am content with where I've been lead.

I will not let anyone overtake

for fear of losing sight of your tyred trail

and should I get too close that I need to break

I pray that my worn pedals will not fail.

I beg you to indicate in advance

to let me know of the roads sudden forks

and should I leave my direction for chance,

chance will not leave me in a cloud of smoke.

Where we are headed, I do not yet know

but I'm sure I'll be wherever you go.

Coital Coasts

Nothing causes me more delight

than the sea's pleasurable sigh

as she stretches out and pulls tight,

moistening that which once was dry.

She makes rocks grind and multiply,

pouncing on their hard solid might.

Guided by the moon way up high

she is a creature of the night.

She is such a wonderous sight

curving unabashed and unshy,

spraying rocks with refreshing white,

louder in her deafening cry.

The ocean bed is hers to lie

where she's both strong and only slight

but one day her tides will die

in an overdrawn, exhausted plight.