Archive for September, 2013

Waiting For Brick Walls

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , on September 30, 2013 by dc

We’re all just
Different definitions
Of the same thing,

Of the same words,

Of the same
Electric moments
Replicated.

We breath unsure,
Waiting for
The sky to fall
In pieces.

We don’t
Make up our minds
We just travel,

Waiting for brick walls,

Until we’re justified
We’re not the only ones,

Until we’re truly wrong,

Then the whispers multiply
And we’re gone.

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Silence Falls

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , on September 27, 2013 by dc

Sometimes silence falls
On the cusp
Of fading laughter
And sticks,

Just people left staring
Through windows slowly misting,

A crow on the phone wires,

Gentle rainfall
And the sound of cars
In the distance,

Driving somewhere
Less tense.

Sometimes we eat
Till we’re sick,

And then wonder why,

It’s a less subtle sadness
If you’re the kind that compares.

All Cluttered

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , on September 16, 2013 by dc

Try, try, and try
As you might,

There will always
Be this voice,

This sigh
Of abstention,

The whispers
Of sorrow,

A tip toe
On egg shells,

The rustle
Before storms.

The realisation
That nothing
Makes much sense

And that
All you can do
Is cry with the rain

As it falls
Through
Your doubts,

Then
Embrace it.

Every Village Has One

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , on September 10, 2013 by dc

A tireless
Yet purposefully
Ramshackled twerp,

All high pitched,
Monosyllabic,

A human dog toy,
A damaged cat,

Lucy goosed
And reckless,

Rattling round the streets.

“If he had a brain
He’d be dangerous”,

The pensioners muttered.

“If he had a hope he’d be happy”,

No-one ever said.

Every village has one.
Every town has three.

Misshapen like a rhombus,
Twisting against the seed.

Autumn Undone

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , on September 4, 2013 by dc

There are storms brooding
Crack-brained indecision hums
As open doors breath,

Our goosebumps quiver
As the breeze builds to whistling
And ideas circle,

We crave peace and quiet
But this isn’t the former
It’s autumn undone

And the crackle of fires.