Archive for December, 2013

Look At Those Two

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , on December 28, 2013 by dc

On the tightrope

Between
Almost beautiful

And
Gently desperate,

Rambling
Down cobbled streets,

Summoning
Stories from the gutters,

Buffing them up
Without stutters

And whispering songs
Under lamplights.

Their night
Could crumble in seconds

One mumble
Or peck
Badly beckoned,

But I reckon
These two

Know that’s a truth
They’ll keep hidden,

Forbidden
Like their soft,
Spent routines,

Or a scene
From an old
New Year’s dream

Badly written.

Advertisements

The Night

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , on December 23, 2013 by dc

The night scatters treats
A long promenade of stars
Welcoming winter

Mechanical Fires

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , on December 18, 2013 by dc

They don’t want to be
Like open gutters,

The filth that washes out
In the rain,

A library of one sided stories
And regretful routines;

So they hide in their homes
And pour drinks down their sinks,

They pull out old memories
And try to colour them clearly,

Whisper mantras when they slump
And slowly tidy up their lives.

They store things in shoe boxes
And file them under their beds,

They try new foods
And flirt with strangers online,

Cry on Fridays
And wallow
All hollow

And wired,

The strange sizzle of pork fat
In mechanical fires.

Dirty Turkey

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , on December 11, 2013 by dc

An ashtray face,
Bad case of herpes,

The camera’s blurry,

Black jeans and a jersey,
Probably late thirties,

His purpose hidden,
Grainy,
Murky,

A mercy journey,
Overtly jerky,

Adversely affected
By the dirty turkey.

Distant Song

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , on December 6, 2013 by dc

It’s those icy pavements
And the shock of white breath
As it leaks out your mouth,

Chimney smoke joining the sky
And the rise of chatter in bars,
Calm a distant song;

Down the high street

A grocer returns
To the pavement to holler
His multi-buy deals
Like he’s never felt woe,

The butcher chops steaks
With a whistle and shimmy,

The corner shop kids
Scream laughter all wild

And the local post office is all
Cards, queues and hustle.

You pull in hard
On those first winter breaths,

You haven’t left
The house in months
And your long uncut toenails
Bend sore against your shoes,

Your knees quiver slightly
And your skin hangs all dry
Like creased denim,

A wincing sadness in your eyes
Like a 5am drunkard
Stumbling through bird song.

You compose yourself slowly
Look up at the clouds
And see geese fly,

There’s the smell of logs burning
And a calm, distant song
Somewhere,

The goosebumps
And the memories,

The cold you’ll move to warm.