In Deep Waters

Tags

creative, Depression, Insecurity, Love, lyrics, poems, poetry, verse, Water, writing

In deep waters

I feel the fishes

Swim round my ankles

Like destiny.

In deep waters

I feel the ocean

Wash in over me

Like fallen tears.

 

In deep waters

I am the shark

The lost and lonely

Misunderstood.

In deep waters

I am undone

Safer out at sea

And not your shore.

 

And as I swim to you

Or the shimmer that

Rises from the swell

I hear the water’s song

The sweetness of its voice

Which calls to me.

 

In deep waters

I am the one

The swollen ocean

Your well of tears.

In deep waters

I feel the whisper

The words that settle

Like destiny.

 

In deep waters

In deep waters

In deep.

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Felt the Sky

Tags

age, Aging, creative, Creative writing, Depression, loss, nostalgia, poems, poetry, Reflection, verse, writing

Saw the lines

Drawn in the sand

That marked our time and place,

Heard the words

In silence fall

That gave life to the lie,

Watched the face

From clouds emerge

Reveal its mocking eye,

Felt the sea

Beneath my feet

All futures soon erased,

Saw the veins

Fill up with salt

An atlas of our days,

Heard the sigh

Of ghosts now gone

Their helplessness unchained,

Watched the flow

Spill over dunes

The drowning man restrained,

Felt the sky

Sink to its knees

And blue eyes turn to grey.

Fell

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creative, Creative writing, Depression, poems, poetry, verse, writing

We fell off

The floor again,

Tumbled down

Through calico lies

And tissue paper truths,

The cobweb futures

Doorways never tried;

Watched the beacons

Breathe their last

And die beneath

Our floorboard heads,

The jewels and dust

Maelstrom in our hearts

That frost our weary eyes;

We fell through

The floor again,

Lost its voice

Beneath the silence

The thunder of our tears,

The rusted chain that

Snaps us as we fall.

Solitude

Tags

creative, Depression, loss, poems, poetry, Solitude, thoughts, verse, writing

Solitude rose

Like an autumn sun,

Early rays pallid

Burning through comfort’s

Cloak of mist,

Casting down light

On what had lain hidden:

Shadows growing longer,

Reaching out like

Venomous snake-roots,

Twisting digits around a heart

Cosseted by inertia

And complacency’s kiss:

Too late the memories of Summer,

Their faces fading like Sun bleached lines

Whose watered paint marks

Had hoped to stay,

Lost already to Winter’s

Future cold,

As creeping silent

From shadow to life

Solitude takes hold.

Against the Tide

Tags

Communication, creative, Creative writing, Depression, emotion, free-form, poems, poetry, thoughts, verse, writing

Brought his thoughts out

Into the light,

Let the rays of gold

Breathe warmth into each

And everyone,

Exhaled and watched

Their woody shells,

Grow their hardened spines

Against the tide

Of other’s eyes,

With steel heart

And stubbled soul

Stood beyond the crowd,

And watched himself as

He slowly sank

Below a malignant

Horizon.

The Interview

Tags

Creative writing, Depression, flash, Prose, short stories, writing

     When they had asked me what he had been like, the man with the knife, all I could say was that I couldn’t really say. He had been, to my mind’s eye, nothing more, or less, than average.

     He had stood at average height; not discernibly taller nor shorter than myself. His hair had been worn short, but neither cropped nor shaven, and his eyes, well I could barely remember the colour of my closest friend’s eyes, so that line of questioning drew a blank.

     What of the colour of the man’s skin? I could confidently say that he was white, but boasted a tanned face; or had that been a more olive complexion? It was difficult to say with any degree of certainty.

     Distinguishing features? He had a knife: a response that solicited a look which could have been annoyance but equally disdain. No, there were none that my sapless mind could recall.

     He had been, the man with the knife, nothing more than average. His accessory had been all that made him stand apart. His unremarkableness reminded me only of myself.

     In fact he might as well have been me.

Predisposed to Sadness

Tags

Communication, creative, Depression, inspiration, Philosophy, poems, poetry, Sadness, verse, writing

Dressed in the finery of night

It’s chill embrace

Familiar

Like the comfort of

A threadbare coat

Collar high

An acknowledgement

Of sorts,

Submerged below

A sea of aural melancholy

It’s welcome waves whisper

Only to my ears

Sounds of contemplation

Tiny earthquakes which rumble

A stronger pulse within my veins,

And through the sunlight

The rains comes down

To drum upon my door,

And beyond the purple

Day-bruised clouds

I catch the kiss of light,

To ask if this is happiness

This yearning for the night

The beat perhaps askew

That fills me with delight.

 

Again

Tags

creative, Depression, faith, poems, poetry, verse, writing

Climbed down from the train,

Its belly rumbling still

Like a malnourished child,

Walked the cold concrete

Past blank-faced waiting rooms

And story touting kiosks,

Felt his ascension,

His automated feet,

Lift him from the darkened bowel,

Toward light’s promise

The canopy of glass

Which hung like disease over him,

Eyes undistracted

By neon’s garish glow

Temptation’s hollow promise,

Out into the day;

Sun that sliced the high-rise

Like a dulled uneasy blade,

Tracers on the floor,

An impermanent guide,

Swallowed by shadow’s silence,

Mind stilled to motion,

Following his footsteps

A slave to destination,

Beyond the concrete,

Where houses looked the same,

Dead-eyed and slowly fading,

He made his way again.

 

Retribution

Tags

creative, death, Depression, emotion, loss, pain, poems, poetry, verse, writing

She was smiling when

They cut him down

And laid his ice-heart

On the ground

As like his passions

When they had come

In furies’ rage had taken

Her girl

And now with vengeance’s

Empty eye

She stared into the space

That she

Could never hope to fill

And she was smiling

As she fell.

 

Ghosts

Tags

Communication, creative, Depression, dreams, hope, nostalgia, poems, poetry, verse, writing

They walk with you

In friendship’s shade

Through pastures green

And cloistered streets,

Beneath its veil,

Its velvet cloak,

Ice fingers coil

Around your soul,

They sense each thought

Each virgin breath

And hold each pulse

Within their palm,

With empty eyes

They watch your days

Hold memories

In candle’s flame,

These ghosts you’ve known

For all your life.