Tag Archives: Love

Serendipidous Muse

The radio is playing up a storm,
as is,
Rockanrollah, the choice of the privileged
FEW, being the operative word,
amongst friends and enemies
if it were viable to tell them apart?

NEWS, nations, souls of absent
Technolgy strangulates the spoken word,
Type, the mode of subsequent generations
Singing for the lonely.

Feared futures, regarded as garbage,
stagnating trailer park wannabes
nothing extraordinary here,
Pull up another sandbag dear friend,
Let them approve another story.

Lives interweave intrinsic patterns,
Love, conceived, in a implausible place,
Ethernets combine to tear apart,
the fallacy of love, in this world
or another.

Place? Plane? Time? cease
to exist within these walls of our love,
Confirming that love can and will endure,
We tear that fallacy apart
Love exists, across
the boundaries of miles
and years.

Our love has lived a thousand lives,
Denial? Absurd
Truth subjugates whatever lies we are told
or tell?
our love shall live again
and prosper!

Serendipity died,
Long live the Muse.



The Lonely Road

This is my tribute to all those affected by the terrible incidents in Boston, especially for the runners, because I know how it feels to put in the miles, the time and the effort. My heart goes out to everyone who has had to witness this cowardly act. I used to run half marathons and have lost count of how many Great North Runs I have done, the biggest half marathon in the world. So I know what it takes.

The Lonely Road

Tarmac, dark, foreboding,
Submissively listens, with
for the footfalls that will
inevitably arrive,
the runner must coexist alongside
The Lonely Road.

Horizons, twisted by heat haze,
permanent illusions, trickery
Sent to confuse aching muscles,
tired feet,
that continously stride
The Lonely Road.

Hour upon Hour,
Mile upon Mile,
Day upon Day,
the road is my lover,
my enemy,
my brother,
my only companion.

I know this road, intimately!
running shoes make love
to the ebony surface, that
seduces me, beguiles me,
like an addict urgently seeks a fix,
My only requirement being,
The Lonely Road

The Lonely Road is my life,
The Lonely Road is my soul,
Without The Lonely Road
I am nothing,
The road without me is
vacuous, destined,
interminably,to be
The Lonely Road.

Posted for OLN over at dVerse, the poets pub. Its taken a few knocks so we need to show our support for the team there. So try and spare a little of your time to post and read some of the other offerings on show by some very talented poets.

Ebb & Flow [The Bastard Man]

I think most of you who read my blog must by now be quite sure I have a screw or two loose or I am a few cookies short of a full packet? Well yes, I guess I am close to that sometimes.

I write about experiences and things that affect my life in some way or other, or something I relate easily to. Since 2008, I struggle to make it through some days. I am not sure exactly where the last 5 years went though, if that makes any sense at all?

I have found in my life, I have two personalities living in  one body. The real me, who cares, deeply, who loves, fiercely, I am passionate and romantic, I have principles and standards that I fight for and a small family I would die for. Then, there is Mr Bastard, the ‘other’ me. Some days, I wake up and for some reason or other, I am just in a bad mood. I have slept well, can’t remember dreaming about anything, but I am just angry at the world and everyone in it. I curse and swear at my long-suffering partner, I happily shout at the TV when someone says something I don’t like, or I treat their opinion with contempt. Sadly, I have the temperament of my dear father and I struggle to control it sometimes. The red mist comes out of nowhere and I am so so close to losing control. Thankfully, unlike my dear father, I have never stooped so low as to strike a woman, but man, have I been a gnats whisker away from doing just that. A few walls and doors have borne the brunt of my anger though.

I am pretty sure I am not alone in this. I would bet my bank balance that many others suffer the same, even though they may never admit it to anyone but themselves. So this is me, trying to convey the image of the one I call The Bastard Man, because sometimes, I am a complete and utter bastard to those I love and who love me. I feel guilty after the event and I always say sorry, eventually, but that will never make it right. Judge me if you want, I am used to it, but be assured, I am my own worst critic and no one can judge me any harder than I already judge myself.

Ebb & Flow [The Bastard Man]

The love spreads forth
as waves lap the beach
Tomorrow that love
maybe just out of reach
I enjoy today,
bask in its joy and its glory
I so wish tomorrow
would be the same story

The sun shines radiant
but theres no shining light
Just feelings of dread,
terror and fright
Hate lies below this facade
that appears so serene
Devouring my heart
like some rabid wolverine

Cheerful, smiling,
engaged in deep conversation
Building the bridges
of reconciliation
I love you, I adore you,
my embrace is your gaol
My arms shall protect you,
my love will prevail

Obscenities spew out
in a unbroken stream of bile
A look of fear replaces
that beautiful smile
Those bridges built
are now slowly burning
The bastard in me
is who you see returning

The duality of me
ebbs and flows like the tide
The bastard some days
will not be denied
He makes his appearance
whenever he prefers
I have no control of
when it occurs

The bastard in me
can spoil my tomorrows
Laughs in my face
as I drown  my sorrows
Today he cant touch me
for today is my castle
This morning it was me
who won the battle

A battle won
does not win me the war
Fighting some days
just seems a chore
I shall never lie down
or simply accept defeat
Each small victory
sees the bastard retreat

The bastard is here though
and here to stay
Neither of us can chase
the other away
Like brothers we exist
in this body as one
A simple fate
that cannot be undone

As always, the good folk over at dVerse have their Open Link Night, and we are week 78 already. So if you haven’t already, pop over to the pub, order a pint, pull up a stool and read some of the excellent work you will see offered there.

Sweet Child of Mine

When I was knee high to a grasshopper [young] I was accidentaly a part of getting a girl pregnant, it takes two yeah! We were kids, but I wanted that bairn badly once I knew she was pregnant, like I have never wanted anything in my life before. The outcome was taken away from me, the appointment made without my knowledge or consent and the pregnancy was no more. If it is possible to love something/someone you will never see or feel or hold, then I loved my child with everything I have. I swore after that day, I would never put myself in that situation again and I haven’t. I love my partner, I love her son and I love his daughter like I would love my own. But I dont care what anyone tells me or says to me or tries to explain to me, it is simply not the same as having a child who carries the same genes as you. Blood IS thicker than water. I have no idea why, but I think about this more at Christmas than any other time of the year.

Take from me what you will
Steal my heart, my body, my soul
Rip the shirt from my back
All that is fine, but please dont take this
Sweet Child of Mine

Take my home, my castle
Break my keep and lay it bare
Ransack my spirit, corrupt it if you will
All that is fine, but please dont take this
Sweet Child of Mine

Take my desires, my dreams
Emprison them in the darkest deep
Make me a eunuch if that please you
All that is fine, but please dont take this
Sweet Child of Mine

Love me, hate me, leave me, loathe me,
Extinguish the flame that burns inside,
Drown me in despair,
All that is fine, but please dont take this
Sweet Child of Mine

Make me blind so I cannot see
The beauty that I sense before me
Make me deaf so I cannot hear
The cries of a child lonely in fear
Strip me naked to the bone
Torture me until I cease to groan
Take my tongue so I maynot speak
Disfigure me until I appear a freak
All that is fine, but please dont take this
Sweet Child of Mine.

Inspired by one of my favourite tunes from Guns n Roses.

Posted over at dVerse as well, so pop over to take a look if you have the chance, you wont be disappointed.

With or Without You

Sometimes, because I love music so much, I build something around songs. My last piece, which Brian Miller picked up on, was written around a Metallica song, Enter Sandman. I ‘borrowed’ a line or two, but that was all.

I met my partner at a NewYears Eve party in 87/88. We lived next door to each other and I often saw her and her little lad coming and going. The party was at a mutual friends place and that’s where we kissed for the first time. It seems like only yesterday. Not long after, a cousin of mine came over from Canada to visit. It was the first time I met her and we got on very well. Before she left she invited me over to Canada to stay with her and her husband. What a oppurtunity that was. I could not say no. I hoped my partner and her son might come with me, but alas, it was not to be. But 3 weeks turned into 9 months, it was hard to leave. If I have any regrets in life, leaving Canada is one of them. But, if I had not come home, we wouldn’t have Tinkerbell, so every cloud has a silver lining.

U2 released the album The Joshua Tree in March 1987. I had seen them twice and fell in love with the album immediately. It’s still in my favourite top 5 albums, always will be. But the song With or Without You became ‘our ‘ song. When it was good, it was orgasmic, when it was bad, it was a car crash. Thats how it was. So the song took on a literal meaning for us both. Living with each other since ’91 has been impossible, living without each other would also be impossible. I know that because we did have a trial separation at one point, but it was not what either of us wanted.

So this is a kind of narrative of our relationship, from beginning to now. Due to unforseen circumstances and a complete change in our lives, I have no idea how it will go from here, we shall just have to see and hope things get better at some point. Thankfully, Tinkerbell [our granddaughter] is a constant source of inspiration. My partner was told, many many years ago that she would become close to a little girl and she certainly has.

‘Twas New Year of 87/88
the party season was drawing towards its end
just one last night on the lash
before it started all over again
same shit, different year
nothing changes
but even then I knew
I could not live
with or without you

Why did I have to be there that night?
Why did you have to be there?
it was just a party
and at parties, things happen
some we regret, some we don’t
and then there are the maybes
I regret meeting you, but then don’t
but even then I knew
I could not live
with or without you

The flight was a long haul
but it had to be made
the adventure was too good to pass
another country, another world
it might as well have been
but you weren’t there
holding my hand, reassuring me
but even then I knew
I could not live
With or without you

The return was emotion filled
a lifestyle I loved
for a woman and boy I loved
a country I loved
for a region I loved
hard choices have to be made
compromises shared
but even then I knew
I could not live
With or without you

Times were hard
the neighbours were bad
but we endured
something had to give
the straw always arrives
that breaks the back of us all
it was time to move on
another chapter, a new chapter
but even then I knew
I could not live
with or without you

The move went well
as well as these things can go
a new home, new neighbours
new surroundings
decor to choose
work to be done
concessions to be made
tolerances tested
but even then I knew
I could not live
with or without you

Prospects, lives, careers improved
money became a friend
who often took us out to dinner
or shared a bottle of wine
or two
a new car for new adventures
hills and valleys to explore
peace to be enjoyed
but even then I knew
I could not live
with or without you

The little girl
the one you were told about
all those years ago
became the greatest Christmas present
we both ever had or could ever get
that first day, that first hold
we both knew we were lost
hopelessly in love
but even then I knew
I could not live
with or without you

Then life conspired against us
a more dramatic change it could not bring
suddenly, my vitality was stolen
never to return?
the walks ended
the hand holding stopped
the kisses and hugs died
lovemaking became history
and even then I knew
I could not live
with or without you

And so, our journey continues
down this rocky road
we have Tinkerbell
the gift of a lifetime
it aint all bad is it?
there’s hope, always hope
but also realism
somehow we have to learn
how to live again
with or without each other.


Beacon of Love

I am doing my usual lazy so and so act again today and trying to kill two birds with one stone.

Over at Victoria’s blog, liv2write2day, she talks about writing from the light perspective we may have on life. Its a natural progression as last week, she offered dark as the prompt.

Whilst looking at other poets work, I stumbled across a new form. I do like experimenting with new forms that present a challenge. This form certainly did that!  At The World Poetized C Rose offers three different forms that she came up with herself. The form I wanted to try is called Calypso and the explanation of the form and how it operates can be seen if you follow the links. Its a tough ask I can tell you and took me most of the morning to reach a point where I thought what I was doing was acceptable. You judge for yourselves.

Beacon of Love

Bathed in soft light
Her beauty shines
A beacon burning bright

I build her shrine
I honor her
That smile oh so benign

Voice soft as fur
I give her love
Love she cannot defer

She is well aware of my obsessions

A star above
To earth alights
Glides on wings of a dove

This is our night
Our star infers
Such a wonderful sight

The moon concurs
Lying supine
As love I did proffer

Its a first effort and I think there’s work to be done before I am anywhere near comfortable with this form. But I gave it a try and will look forward to any comments with interest.





I know, I understand, I have a very addictive nature. I become so absorbed in whatever it is that is my current obsession, everything and everyone have little meaning. Maybe my star sign is having an influence on what I am, maybe my family genetics dictate that I am this way, maybe I am just slightly crazy? Who knows? I think I have just about learnt to live with these things, never expecting them to become a reality, just taking them for what they are, a dream, wishful thinking or whatever label we want to put on it. But, no matter what I try, I cannot prevent them from becoming what they become, whatever ‘they’  we are talking about. These dalliances with differing obsessions are now somewhat tiresome. I wish they would stop, but they don’t, they just keep popping up. So I thought, what the hell, lets write about my latest ‘obsession’ it appears to be a pretty decent prompt/muse type thingamabobs.

My latest obsession has been growing to what it is for some time now. I know that much about myself to see what is happening, when, where and how and about what. That doesn’t give me any higher level of control, I just know about it and let it take its course and hopefully come out the other end no worse for the experience.

I doubt/hope, this latest object of my obsessive behaviour will ever be aware of my feelings and longings. My hope is, that by next week, something else has come along that takes my fancy. I think being obsessive about a game, a book or film is fine. When that obsession  turns towards a person, maybe that ain’t quite so healthy? I am not some mad axe murderer or internet stalker, although some may find that hard to believe 😉 just a man who has some weird ideas sometimes and some dreams and fantasies that are pretty harmless.

So anyway, without further digressions, read on

I see that enigmatic smile,
That angelic face, beaming,
A look so radiant,
I cannot, will not, help myself, as
I dive into those eyes, that
See me, yet disbelieve what they

I long each day, for
Just one touch, one
Touch, filled with the electricity, of
A thousand storms, yet,
I am to be disappointed, the
Yearning continues again, and

You know not of what I speak, you
Are oblivious, to
My desires, my
Silent screams, the
Longing to hold you, in
My arms, just

The words upon the page, are
Mirrors of your mood, captured
In the blink of an eye, to
Be preserved, for
Eternity and beyond, the
Click of the lense, will not

From afar I watch, day
Pass into night, yet,
You are close enough to touch, your
Breath, soft as silk, glides
Across this weary stare, glazed
By your beauty, that

My world will end, expire
Never knowing what it is, to
Kiss those tender lips, taste
All that is you, feel
The touch of your fingers, or
Your arms holding me,


This is my obsession, you
Are my obsession,
Fear me not, for I
Could not hurt you, nor
Hate you, I
Only want, to
Love You.


I hunger for just one look,
In my direction,
I hunger for just one kiss,
To confirm your affection,
I hunger for just one touch,
That makes my spine tingle,
I hunger for just one thought,
Making us commingle.

I hunger just for you my love,
To feel your embrace,
I hunger just for you my love,
Our lives intelace,
I hunger just for you my love,
Lost in your rapture,
I hunger just for you my love,
My heart, you capture.

I hunger for just one look,
Into those eyes,
I hunger for just one kiss,
To taste what it implies,
I hunger for just one touch,
A caress so devine,
I hunger for just one thought,
Make our minds entwine.

I hunger just for you my love,
Ignite my fire,
I hunger just for you my love,
Sate my desire,
I hunger just for you my love,
For you alone I crave,
I hunger just for you my love,
My soul, you enslave.


Heartfelt Lies [a Tanka]

I am on a learning curve and am hungry for it. After some research earlier today, I found myself at One Stop Poetry sifting through their Form Archive. There is some terrific information there about different forms of poetry. So far, I have had a go at Shadorma’s today and now its the turn of the Tanka. It takes the form of a 5-7-5-7-7 syllable poem, but I suggest you read about yourself.

I have so far attempted Haiku’s, Octains, Shadorma’s and now the Tanka. I will eventually work my way through the whole archive, but Vilanelles look too complicated for now, although very interesting. One Stop Poetry is a great source of information and inspiration for the budding poet.

Here goes,

First you see the blood,

My wounded heart lies bleeding,

Your lies tore it out,

What once was yours to own, now,

Lies damaged beyond repair.

I Feel Love

Her soft satin hand, cooler,
Than a summer breeze, grazed,
The course five o’clock shadow upon my shaven face,
Her genteel silk hair, billowed,
About her freckled face, akin to,
A mellifluous sigh.

Golden sands beneath feet, smooth,
Abrade toes, likewise heels,
Laundered by ripples of vast, turbulent oceans,
Fingers, delicately entwined,
Twinned bands of silver, reflecting,
Suns dying embers.

Dancing Aurora Borealis, distant,
Diffused horizons, of,
Diminishing indigo, fading to oblivion, on,
Sirocco’s chill,
Horripilations break our flesh,
Capitulate to the night.

Warm torrents abuse, yet,
Assuage our naked bodies, candlelights,
Quiver in a draughts continuous flux,
Dispassionate towels absorb lingering moisture,
Radiant coals cast their unspoken spells, upon,
Our embrace on sable furs.

Tactual sensations kindle flames of desire,
Animated shadows cavort their pleasure,
Firm breast endorses your anticipation of a kiss,
Heightened senses respond, reciprocate in ecstasy,
The onslaught achieves its crescendo,
Satiated, glistening bodies fuse their acceptance.

Todays prompt was Texture. I believe, not only does texture exist to the touch, but it also exists to the eye, visual texture. I have tried here to combine elements of both.I believe that this is one of those instances where having the words read to you whilst you closed your eyes, would be infinitely better than just reading the words. If I knew how to do that, I would, but sadly, I don’t.

Hope you enjoy it anyway. Its one of those I might well come back to and edit parts of at a later date.

This was written for Monday Morning Writing Prompt.