The Forgotten

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creative, Forgotten, history, poems, poetry, Truth, verse, war, writing

The future will kiss

Our shadows as if it knew

The things that we had chosen

And all the things that we had forgotten,

It will stare back as if

We were a part of all to come

The things that we had seen

And everything that we had prophesied,

But we are the lost

The souls who burned on Hell’s cold fields

And left the lessons buried there,

The future will still close

It’s cold unempathetic eye

It’s vengeful ghost still chained against

The cliffs we fought so hard to tame,

The laughter rings like rain

Upon the boxes we built as defence

Which wall out the moments frozen

To stop them scratching out our eyes,

The future will still blow

It’s kisses downwind to hide its fear

And all the things that we had chosen

For we are the forgotten.

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2018

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Trapped

MORALITY PARK

Did you miss me

When my smile died

And my mouth would not move?

When the light that burned for you

Flickered low and, starved of fuel,

Fell silent still behind

Dead eyes?

Did you miss me

When you held my hand

And felt the skin replaced by ice?

When you looked beyond the veil

To gather moments to bring me back

To capture all that you

Had lost?

Did you miss me

As trapped behind the glass

My cries fell like snowflakes?

Did you miss me then

As much as I missed

Myself?

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2018

If you enjoyed this, thank you! To read more please visit chrisnelson61

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Eve’s Curse

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creative, poems, poetry, verse, writing

She moved like the simmering storm,

Swept in from an ocean

Which festered in its anger

Like a child whose petulance grew

Bitter berries beneath a compromised sky,

Aching shoulders, back bent twisted

Head hung like a knife blunted

Her eyes still razor sharp

Raised above the bruised horizon

Cut the rain like sorrows parting,

Loose skin caught by the whispering wind

Its map folds trapped

And blurred at the edges

Roads that once led south and west

Smudges smeared like fallen fruit beneath the boot,

Carried like carrion the black shadow wings

Swept on like Arctic winter

With nowhere to go

A desperate curse upon the land

Her eyes burned blackened by hope.

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2018

I Would Have Loved

MORALITY PARK

I would have loved you then,

Your tumbling hair

A cascade of words

Around my heart,

Your silken skin

A sliver of hope

Amidst the dark,

But my eyes had not yet opened.

I would have loved you then,

Your precious lips

Their berry-sweet taste

Against my own,

Your endless eyes

Welcome drowning pools

In which to dive,

But my heart had not yet thawed.

I would have loved you then,

Your gentle touch

Warm electric glow

Against my flesh,

Your turning back

Sign for me to say

Deep hidden words,

But I knew I was too late.

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2018

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Kitchen Window

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creative, Life, loss, poems, poetry, time, verse, writing

She stood at the kitchen window

Still her eyes looking out

Over the fields of wheat

Now clothed in concrete and stone

Salt-moist with the days

She had given away

And moments she had sunk

Her tired hands into

Too deep to ever catch the dreams

Which swam in the shallows

Transients in the currents

Which left their lip-stain

On shores she felt that she

Could never reach

Not seeing that they

Like the hours lost

Were nothing more than shark-bait

Driven onto rock-scarred shores

Wishing that the story book tales

Had not been quite so tall

And that true love’s lips had kissed

A promise of truth

That the dragons had left some bridges

For her alone to burn

And that the rainbow had borne

Her happy ending

Still, her eyes looking out

She stood at the kitchen window.

 

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2018

Ink me in colour – Chris Nelson

MORALITY PARK

Ink me in colour

This monochrome heart

That’s bled black

For a thousand years and

Stained the Earth with pain,

Given birth to the sorrow

That wails through the night

A banshee’s song

Makes the Moon in her shame

Cover her face

And drop an icy tear which melts

A torrent which washes this despair

From corner to corner

Of a globe already sodden,

I’ll watch as each droplet seeps

Slowly from the pipette

Splashing upon the canvas

Like the first kiss of Spring

Its trickle running with quiet insistence

From page to page

Impregnates the white impassive

Sketches of life

Drowned from birth

By the flow from my eye,

Watch with impossible hope

For the pigment to take

And wash the black blood

Red – passion’s hue –

The disinterested white

Now coloured with love,

Empty the well

And I’ll drink with the thirst

Of the dying

And cling…

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We Want

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Creative writing, Life, Notoriety, poems, poetry, Remembered, thoughts, Truth, verse, writing

What is it we want

Is it just to belong

To be part of the crowd

A part of the scene,

A sense of our place

And our presence in time

A memory for others

To mark where we’d been?

Or do we all seek

To leave past days behind

And carve out our future

Our place in the Sun,

To step with new shoes

And away from the herd

To leave our feint imprint

Where no one has gone?

But as the Sun sets

We’ll all fade in its shade

No name be remembered

On each weathered grave.

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2018

 

Metal Boxes

MORALITY PARK

We hide our thoughts

And faces behind

The fantasies we build

In metal boxes,

The melted sand panes

Reflecting back the cold

Outside,

Holding in our voices

As if they belonged to us

And yet still they slip,

Unruly children,

Through our fingers

As they grasp too late

To ideas on the winter breeze

The chill that keeps us

Safe inside,

Open-mouthed we gasp the poison

That bleeds into our sanctum

Wishing that the journey was worth

The destination,

That our voices would join

With those we hold

In silent esteem,

That we could stay

Forever cocooned in glass and steel,

That all we would be

Would lead us home.

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2018

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Losing You

Tags

creative, Distance, Fear, Losing you, loss, poems, poetry, separation, verse, writing

When did I first begin to start

Losing you?

Was it the note that you said I

Never wrote?

Or was it the favourite tune you

Couldn’t name?

Perhaps the day you looked away

At the trees?

Or when we passed upon the stairs

Like strangers?

When did I first begin to start

Losing you?

Was it when you looked at me and

Said his name?

Or was it when your lips forgot

How to smile?

Perhaps the day I was not there

Within your eyes?

Or when I felt the final cord cut

From my heart?

When did I first begin to start

Losing you?

 

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2018

Different Shores

MORALITY PARK

We set sail for different shores

A chance to greet new horizons

And carve a name where once was none

To plant our feet on holy ground,

We threw our maps into the sea

To trust to luck and winking stars

And casting dreams upon the winds

Our faith forever in the brine,

We sought the land birds on the wing

Strained our ears to hear their song

And when the call came from the crow

We took to task with hungry hands,

We welcomed in the virgin green

As if we’d never loved before

And set our rootless feet upon the shore

But never felt the tendrils grow,

We let our restless eyes look back

To all the things we’d left behind

And heard our past love’s whispered words:

“Come back, come back, come home to me.”

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2018

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