Don’t Let Me Down

Tags

Communication, creative, Creative writing, death, faith, isolation, poems, poetry, Relationships, verse, writing

Don’t let me down
Or leave me here,
Just cut me down
And disappear,
Don’t let me know
Or tell me when,
The cruellest blow
Bury me then,
Don’t let me breathe
And suffocate,
In lies you weave
It gets too late,
Don’t let my song
Hang in the air,
With words so wrong
And none to spare,
Don’t let me walk
With only hate,
Whilst others stalk
The open gate,
Don’t let me down
Or leave me here,
Just cut me down
I’ll disappear.

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2020

Apple Cart

Tags

Apple Cart, creative, poems, poetry, verse, writing

Upset the apple

Cart again

And watched them tumble

To the floor

And from my perch I

Saw you fall

With nothing to catch you

Anymore

And as the thorn dug

In my side

I let the rose sink 

To its grave

This tower that I

Built on sand

The remnants of all

That I crave.

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2020

Blank Eyes

Tags

age, Communication, creative, death, dream, free-form, isolation, loss, nostalgia, poems, poetry, verse, writing

He stares at me with the resignation of a man
Who knows what is to be,
Blank eyes
Cold-grey like a quarry
Dis-used,
Abandoned,
Reflecting the past like faded notes
On a calendar,
On a piano,
Its tune familiar like a face
I once knew
Appearing through the mist
Like a bird
Lost on its journey to find the warmth
Of a new day rising
In the East,
In the South,
He stares at me like a shadow
As if all he sees is beyond me,
Through me,
Pasts and futures bound with weeds
Wrapped in the inevitable,
And for a moment
A second at least,
I recognise those empty eyes,
The greying, decaying stubble
That sprouts on his face
Hides in the cuts of time,
And withers like forgotten fruit;
He stares at me as if he wants
To watch me pluck each orb,
Replace it with my own
And see me as I am;
He stares as if, at any moment
I will know him
Then watch him walk away,
He stares.

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2020

House in the Hills

Tags

creative, faith, House innthe Hills, inspiration, Love, poems, poetry, Relationships, verse, writing

There is a house

In the hills

Where my true love

Does lie.

Among the ferns

Shadow kissed

Her brown hair falls

In waves.

 

And as my eyes

Weep to the skies

I wait each day

For her dew to fall

Upon me.

 

Beneath the trees

In the glade

Her presence glides

In swathes.

From the peaks

Her love soars

On angel wings

I below.

 

And as my eyes

Weep to the skies

I wait each day

For her dew to fall

Upon me.

 

There is a house

In the hills

Where my true love

Does lie.

Among the ferns

Shadow kissed

Her brown hair falls

In waves.

 

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2020

 

Untitled

Tags

creative, Darkness, Depression, Lost, night, poems, poetry, Untitled, verse, writing

Born into the night

Sharp-suited, black

Against the shadows,

Felt your footsteps

Cold and soundless

Tracking,

Each placed deep within my own,

Your breath,

Chill upon my neck

As your words swirled,

Like birds lost in the warmth

Of early winter,

Around my head,

My back sheltered by 

The uneasiness of your coat

Wrapped about my shoulders,

Felt your hands eat

Into my formaldehyde mind,

Sowing the seeds for a harvest

Misted by candle-wick days

Which devoured the light

And led the Sun to its

Uneasy bed,

Born into the night

Cut from the promise of light,

Against the shadows

I felt your footsteps.

 

An older poem that has appeared before but vanished!

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2020

 

 

The Bells of Saint Mark’s

Tags

creative, poems, poetry, The bells of saint Mark's, verse, writing

And I heard the bells of Saint Mark’s

Their plaintive cry counting the distance

Like crows on the wind

That stretched between us

Each solemn tone a landmark

On the horizon that I could never reach

Each echoed silence a hollow

Where all your words lie naked bruised

I hear that the winter bites hard where you are

Its vampiric grin suckling the life

From the earth and the sky

And you

Yet here beneath a sun that grills the soil

Parches, carves wrinkles into skin

Marks the places where you once were

I feel only the cold

The door you left ajar deep

Inside my soul

And I shiver at the loss or at the knowing

That the shape you left

Will never fill

With sound or warmth or hope

And I stand in the shadowed frame

Of the window

Which reaches out like an old man

Dying in the night

In the moment that he realises

The loneliness that has always been

His companion in the dark

And the light

And across the town across the plane

Still rings the sound

Of the bells

Of Saint Mark’s.

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2020

 

To Your Heart

Tags

Communication, creative, Creative writing, emotion, hope, Life, loss, Love, nostalgia, poems, poetry, Relationships, To Your Heart, verse, writing

I sent a message to your heart
That only reached your head
A string of words which hung on silk
Around my neck like lead
I wrote a tune, a melody
And hummed it in your ear
The open heartbeat spaces there
The sounds you couldn’t hear
I smiled a smile behind my eye
To bridge the gap between
And grew a rainbow in the sky
If only you had seen
I sent a message to your heart
That only reached your head
And only questioned with my tears
The words you never said.

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2020

Lies We Weave

Tags

creative, Depression, free-form, Lies We Weave, Life, Philosophy, poems, poetry, Relationships, verse, writing

The lies we weave
Hang from the ceilings
Of the rooms
We dreamed up once
Upon a time
In nighttimes held in
Hands so large and warm
We never had to breathe,
They hold us there
Afraid to move or break
The cord that winds its
Silken thread
About our limbs
Until the will to step from corners
Dies and lies in silence
A shell bereft of care,
And still we spin
Draw in those who fly
Too close or
Cannot feel the risk
We show so plain
To believe the lies we say
As if they were anything but
The web we sleep within.

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2020

The Screen that Hums

Tags

Celebrity, Communication, creative, isolation, Life, poems, poetry, Relationships, Television, The Screen that Hums, TV, verse, writing

With the TV on
And no-one home
Does it matter that
We’re all alone
With the dramas and
The lives of those
We’d wish to be or
Are glad we aren’t
To dip in and out
Of colours loud
Where death rings tears
And heroes bleed
But we’ll see them all
Again next time
In costumes grand
Or just like those
That reflect our lot
In kitchens where
Machines that feed us
Ping lap-top sustenance
Remind us of the
Lives that we could lead
Behind the screen
That hums and moves
In steps more constant
Than our own or those
That move our hearts to bleed
Or cry out in our heads
For the credits to roll
Once more.

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2020

Return to Dust

Tags

creative, lyrics, poems, poetry, Relationships, Return to Dust, time, verse, writing

It’s a slow parade

That passes through this town,

Faces hung so low

On every one a frown,

It’s a darker night

Than those we knew before

Still wind still so cold

No breath behind the door.

 

Can’t write the future

Won’t even try,

Can’t change the past

Was born to this,

Came here staring up

Towards the sky,

Soon found my feet

Forgot the kiss.

 

Learned how to wander

Far from the place,

It all began

And how I lost,

My sense of time

My sense of space,

And felt my fire

Turn to frost.

 

Grew so soft inside

A thicker skin,

My wisdom died

Upon the bough,

And those who came

Would not come in,

My amber heart

It kept them out.

 

It’s a slow parade

That passes through this town,

Faces hung so low

On every one a frown,

It’s a darker night

Than those we knew before

Still wind still so cold

No breath behind the door.

 

Can’t write the future

Won’t even try,

Can’t change the past

Was born to this,

Came here staring up

Towards the sky,

Soon found my feet

Forgot the kiss.

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2020