Tag: poetry in motion

I Saw Your Shadow

I Saw Your Shadow


I saw your shadow so I thought I’d retreat, there was nothing to say all blown away the wind rolled us like a carpet. We’d had blanket coverage we were not famous anymore we had done with lifetime served and we threw the clock away. No hands were moving, no tick went with the tock the land was his after the third war, let’s hope our spirits survived for our shadows were forever painted on a wall. Yet our very souls were saved I don’t like things so final however I found this pathway, climbing between the high clouds. It is only me I made a fluffy shape I’m gone and this cloud vanished far away from the mayhem

Upon the river bank in the manner of the bard

Th’re wast upon the riv’r bank a pile of soil transmut’d if ‘t be true thee wouldst indulge me, into a heapeth of emotion laying within. T wast a warmeth day and the travelling lamp did beat down something inside did want to breaketh out of the soil, t vibrat’d and did tremble across the riv’r wide and ranneth at seventeen nautical knots wide a single white lily hath moved into the riv’rbank all high-lone and bobbing, t suddenly did turn upside down and expos’d t’s delicate roots searching f’r a new life, t struggl’d a plenty stretching to penetrate the vibrating crumbling mound of dryeth did crack soil, f’r inside new life wast waiting and a voice from above bellow’d “tell those in the silv’r cautel we has’t new life. ” as the riv’r hath carried on in continuity annulling the brown soil casing whilst new life wast b’rn

There was upon the river bank a pile of soil transmuted if you would indulge me, into a heap of emotion laying within. It was a warm day and the sun beat down something inside wanted to break out of the soil, it vibrated and trembled across the river wide and ran at seventeen nautical knots wide a single white Lily moved into the riverbank all alone and bobbing, it suddenly turned upside down and exposed it’s delicate roots searching for a new life, it struggled a plenty stretching to penetrate the vibrating crumbling mound of dry cracked soil, for inside new life was waiting and a voice from above bellowed “tell those in the silver craft we have new life.” as the river carried on in continuity annulling the brown soil casing whilst new life was born.

Another Poetry Selection From Warrior of Poetry.

Neptune’s Friend

Neptune’s friend now a spirit drifting within a dense cloud, hiding. I always wondered when in mortal time what it would have been like to go fishing on a boat in wild seas. How brave and maybe mindless is is it to rise and fall in the search for slick shiny protein we call fish.

Oh skill, bravery and tenacity reign in all forms but nothing more brave than the stoic warrior of the fishing seas. The fisherman his biblical struggle for a staple of your feed. I zone in from the clouds to the boat deck with the manic endeavours of the day. I sensed rising and falling I couldn’t be sick as I was a spirit now flowing in the slicks of wind and rain. I was with the fishermen till they headed for home to the shoreline and safe harbour and I thought in my spirit form who shall I join next for another day. Upwards I transcend to hide within the cloud, to be free again.

Rooms With a View

Rooms with a view and how much more do we need, I really mean it. Many of the troubles that we have today are due to the uneven distribution of land and the convincing methods of control this has. Nobody should have to live in a tower block but they do. How is that enjoyable battery hens are kept this way they have problems for sure they do.

It’s a parachute for a garden and a lift from terra firma alright or otherwise death is not too pleasant so why is this an acceptable form of living. Surely it is not, but the idea remains half a mile to the clouds . Something needs to change but at this point in time I’m stuck for an answer, surely so called intelligent planners cannot continue with these results. We know of one of the most immoral results being in the form of Grenfell Tower, finally over the planners desks one comes up with this suggestion to deliver us from such horrors alas however where there is no sense, there is no feeling, are these people possessed. Think hard brothers and sisters of the lives lost.

Milestone

Milestone of a redirected discovery, that of truth and love. To live forever side by side seen on the future horizon far in a cosmic sky. Starlit pods explode cascading down and all around, dazzling and bemusing. The earth moves once more in a new revolution inspired by good and bold, young and old together we go kinder citizens of the world in new hope stand, be inspired in vortexes of starlight and let us go live.

Rainy

On a rainy black road of glistening rain, I glance the protruding stock window frames stand proud one window stands out for what is within it is but a landscape, upon this wall. So many sitting inside this wall mural has on its door the guarantee of escape. Narnia on the wall, tell me are we all that desperate now to escape from the inner house, do I believe it. Oh yes I would like too.

That I Know

There are too many of us of that I know. We have run out of words, I know that too. It is disturbing I know that also. We are watching exterminators every day we see that I know as well. We are watching, this is happening for verily I know. The wheel turns that is also known, forever on the world watching waiting and aye yond is eke known as the bard wouldst sayeth I’m here living for the moment and aye I knoweth yond v’ry much, Shakespeare stirs the Bard within me.

Selected Poems We Hope You Will Enjoy.

Humans.

Humans not fit to take sustenance from the earth, they grow to make war and hate, nothing is dissipated all cram into one of many big places. The cities of mass and confusion the condensers the futile use of space where control and power is meted out like rations. No-one is allowed to see the waste, for they are wasted, like city trash and no pennies are allowed to drop in the holed hats of the poor thousands who sleep by the bulk bins, lucky to get a moral. As the dark and desperate of the night shiver amidst the dogs that howl and the fighting tom cat compete for what has become a futile survival.

Land of Divisions

Land of divisions and stereotypes, masses of multiplications of factions and nepotism networks abound. All around, world gig of contentions and licentious behaviours like seeds mass scattered of blobs and matter emerging under now virus status. Forever in mutations expect there nipples and four hands of development devolving from the new evolutions and also don’t forget to pray and pray a lot, any future is not easy in the voids of time.

Xmas Poetry & Audio Poems Ep 1.

Audio Poems

Tramps are everywhere…
Hurried Stuff, mother is in the living room.
It’s Grim Up North

A Time.

A time when nothing is in your hands, manipulation occurs, from another source. It comes to visit by surprise it does so in doses to convince you literally your mind is not your own wait. And you will feel them sleep, then see forever.

Boys Who Were Kings

Boys who were kings at ten, now sit on their own, when they were old and grey cobwebs were spun around the stiffness as the chair rocked to and fro a long nose of nobility hit the shadows, the lightbulb swung. A shadow in the gap where once burned a fire in the once living hub of familial energy, a forefinger raised still above the right chair. Arm pointing, but the direction has gone. A figure walks past the glassless window a cool white full moon is helping the voice shouts out “anyone at home” “silence man, the king is dead close the door”. All reposed nothing to report

Hurried Stuff

Hurried stuff dark rainy day strained brain sat on me Todd watching a wheeze of a sixties slice of life semi biopic of the cultural time now gone it is but madness Norman Bates is here mother are you alive or dead no it is a slipper behind the door , where is mother she is but with axe ready in the front room still watching soaps whilst I’m still in a lather looking for an open door

The Warrior of Poetry: The Poetry archive