As It Ever Was

Tags

age, As it ever was, creative, Depression, hope, loss, nostalgia, poems, poetry, time, verse, writing

And when at last the dust

That had crept into our eyes and

Scratched its frozen images

Deep within our hearts and minds

Began to fall

Did we find that we had found

All that we were looking for

The prizes and rewards that we

Had promised ourselves

So many lifetimes before?

Or did our vista still contain the

Dreams that we had always known

Were nothing more than that

No more than the pictures that we

Had painted with the hands

Of children fleeing from the night?

And all the promises that we had cast

Like yarrow stalks, now pebbles on the beach

Had given up their secrets to the sea

And washed themselves with the briny tears

That we had shed so freely

Thinking that they would be gone

Spent like the pennies we cherished in

The youth we dreamed away so soon

Before we learned to mourn its death

And let the black sank deep within

A storm that never passed

The ghost of all the days we thought

Would one day come to life

And take our hands

And lead us to all that grew on trees so near

So far from reach

But now through thinly veiled eyes

The scratches fall away

And through the sinking mists we see

All as it ever was.

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2021

Something to Say

Tags

Communication, creative, Depression, loss, Love, nostalgia, poem, poetry, Relationships, Something to Say, verse, writing

There was something that I wanted

To say to you

Before the feeling was drowned

By words

In the moments when the ghosts

Moved amongst us

Like silkworm strands

Their delicate beauty their strength

Eclipsing the hands as they swept away

The stories that we had been sold

Before the skies grew dark above

Our heads

In the days when the ghosts

Drifted from our sight

Like cataract clouds

Their flailing hands now skeletal

Lost behind the numbers that fell from our eyes

Leaving nothing but the dust.

There was something that I wanted

To say to you.

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2020

Metal Boxes

Tags

Communication, creative, Depression, loss, Metal Boxes, poems, poetry, verse, writing

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.

P

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2020

Out of Sight

Tags

Communication, creative, Dependency, Depression, lyrics, Out of Sight, poems, poetry, verse, writing

Well I don’t think that I

Can take this anymore,

When I’m lying here again

On the kitchen floor,

With a drowning heart

And the bottles all dead,

And the countdown ringing

Echoes in my head.

Outside in the black night

Where the voices still ring,

Each one a bit louder

To mask out everything,

But later much later

Beneath blankets they crawl,

In stuporous dreaming

Denying the fall.

And when the Sun comes around

See the time’s just the same,

Don’t reach too deep inside

To find someone to blame,

Close your eyes to the day

And hold on to the night,

Keep the cellar door locked

And the demons out of sight.

Well I don’t think that I

Can take this anymore,

When I’m lying here again

On the kitchen floor,

With a drowning heart

And the bottles all dead,

And the countdown ringing

Echoes in my head.

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2020

Different Shores

Tags

Belief, Communication, creative, Depression, Different Shores, faith, hope, isolation, nostalgia, poems, poetry, Roots, verse, writing

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 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

 

 

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

Animal

Tags

Alcohol, Animal, creative, Dependency, Depression, poems, poetry, verse, writing

Take a deep breath and hold it now

Going down and going under,

The dark won’t drown the animal

The cold won’t freeze us where we fall.

Reach your hands out in the darkness

Knees worn right down to the bone,

Cast your words out on the altar

Take your comfort in the silence.

Drink in the brown drink in the gold

Distractions from the howling dog,

All the things that never killed you

Only served to keep you here.

See the shadows portents looming

Climbing blindly in the stairwell,

Animal upon your shoulder

Inside your head won’t let you down.

Take a deep breath and hold it now.

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2020

 

Undone

Tags

Communication, creative, Depression, Insecurity, poems, poetry, Undone, verse, writing

I’ll carve marks into my skin

And hope that you can see

Trust the cold wind with my name

To show where I have been,

Throw my arms out open wide

Watch red skies turn to black

Cry lost flowers wilt and die

To show you what’s inside,

I’ll leave words upon the shelf

Beneath the dust they’ll die

Hear the voices on the breeze

Whisper someone else,

All the things I left undone

Freeze the hands as they spin

Then slip between the covers

And vanish with the sun.

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2020

 

Some Days

Tags

creative, Darkness, Depression, pain, poems, poetry, Some days, verse, writing

Some days

It is difficult just to lift 

My head

From the pillow;

Impossible to raise

My thoughts from the depths

In which they lie.

Some days

The strain to place one foot in front

Of the

Other aches hard;

Pain that sears like fire

Pain that leaves no scar

That you can see.

Some days

Each breath is like the very last

In bursts

Not short nor sweet;

Sucked in without my will

Chest that rises still

Then falls once more.

Some days

There are no words justs sounds that bleed

Behind

My hollow eyes;

Some days.

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2020