chrisnelson61

~ Poetry, stories and some random words…

chrisnelson61

Tag Archives: loss

Trapped

23 Saturday Jan 2021

Posted by chrisnelson61 in Uncategorized

≈ 13 Comments

Tags

age, Alzheimers, creative, death, dementia, loss, Love, nostalgia, poems, poetry, Trapped, verse, writing

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 2000-2021

I Would Have Loved

16 Saturday Jan 2021

Posted by chrisnelson61 in Uncategorized

≈ 8 Comments

Tags

Communication, creative, I would have lived, loss, Love, nostalgia, poems, poetry, verse, writing

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 2000-2021

As It Ever Was

09 Saturday Jan 2021

Posted by chrisnelson61 in Uncategorized

≈ 10 Comments

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

05 Saturday Dec 2020

Posted by chrisnelson61 in Uncategorized

≈ 11 Comments

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

21 Saturday Nov 2020

Posted by chrisnelson61 in Uncategorized

≈ 12 Comments

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

Hamster

14 Saturday Nov 2020

Posted by chrisnelson61 in Uncategorized

≈ 14 Comments

Tags

Belief, creative, faith, Hamster, loss, nostalgia, poems, poetry, verse, writing

Kicking around in the dust

Of another directionless day

Wishing on a long dead star

That revelation is real

We were stillborn in this place

Reached up through the lattice of weeds

Grew old and tired and died here

As if we had ever lived

And floating high above the clouds

We see at last what all this if for

The hamster running on his wheel

The time that nevers ends

The pull of procreation

That withers in the dying light

And leaves our winters colder

Than the ghosts that haunt our heads.

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2020

Blank Eyes

05 Saturday Sep 2020

Posted by chrisnelson61 in Uncategorized

≈ 11 Comments

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

To Your Heart

01 Saturday Aug 2020

Posted by chrisnelson61 in Uncategorized

≈ 23 Comments

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

Open Door

04 Saturday Apr 2020

Posted by chrisnelson61 in Uncategorized

≈ 7 Comments

Tags

creative, loss, Love, nostalgia, Open door, poems, poetry, Relationships, verse, writing

Walk through that open door

And I’ll pretend that I

Have never seen you before,

Your chestnut hair it frames

Scattered days upon the floor

Makes me think of distant times,

And all the things I never owned

Like fire and hope and love

Your voice sweet in the blackbird’s song,

A heart, a ring and other things

That lay like flowers

Their tears upon the winter ground,

Footsteps through the morning dew

And in my stolen dreams

Each moment brings me back to you,

Makes me think of silent days

Your eyes behind my eyes

And all the joy you ever saw,

I’ll cut away the creeping vines

And I’ll pretend that I

Am worthy of your gifts

If you’d walk through

That open door.

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2020

 

Summer Died

07 Saturday Mar 2020

Posted by chrisnelson61 in Uncategorized

≈ 34 Comments

Tags

creative, Longing, loss, Love, Memory, nostalgia, poems, poetry, Relationships, Remember, Summer, verse, writing

I remember the hurt

When the Summer died,

And words fell worn like leaves

The look in your eyes,

Oh, I remember the fall

The hole in your eyes,

Silhouettes on gallows

Against the sky.

 

And I would walk, walk with you

Beyond the edges

Beyond the fringe

Live  all your secrets

If you want me to,

And I would dance, dance for you

To a silent tune

Played by your heart

Run with your shadows

If you asked me to.

 

And I would love, love you still

Beyond the words

Beyond the lips

Hold you forever

If you needed me to,

And I would leave, leave for you

When the air was dead

And nothing rhymed

If you asked me to.

 

I remember the hurt

When the Summer died,

And words fell worn like leaves

The look in your eyes,

Oh, I remember the fall

The hole in your eyes,

Silhouettes on gallows

Against the sky.

 

But if you’d stay, stay for me

Just a moment

A moment more

I’d turn these tears to wine

If you asked me to.

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2020

 

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  • Hidden Bear
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Hidden Bear

A Mechoopda poet

The Vision of Poets

The Poetic Stories of Michael33

HARLEY HOLLAND

Artemis and the Moon

short stories about life

Grumpy's Gifts (poetry corner)

a space cleared for sharing words well worth their share.

Blueprint of a Storm

writer — poet — word and reality rearrange(r)

In mind and out

Read my mind

Daydreaming as a profession

Daydreaming and then, maybe, writing a poem about it. And that's my life.

Treacle Heart

poetry & prose by HLR

Raw Earth Ink

spit, mixed with dirt - muddy words flow

Musings

What comes to me as a still, small voice in the atmosphere of daylight and evening. © Mario Savioni and Musings, 2013. Unauthorized use or duplication of this material without the consent of the author is prohibited. Small (100 words or less) excerpts or links are permitted as long as credit is given to Mario Savioni with direction to the original content. Please refrain from “reblogging” posts.

WordMusing

...a world of poetry and spokenword

Stories From the Edge of Blindness

In 2002, Retinitis Pigmentosa changed my life. This is my story of a slow approach to darkness.

Incarcerated shadows

"Something wicked this way comes"

herschelmann fotoblog, bestpixel-photowerkstatt-hamburg.de

einige mehr oder weniger tolle Ideen um die Fotografie und die Bildbearbeitung

Objects, and the Distance Between Them

Dreams, thoughts, and experiences expressed through poetry and prose

Zoolon Audio

Guitarist / Songwriter / Blogger

MORALITY PARK

A.G. Diedericks

A Blind Bird

There's no sky, just stars.

EWIAN

Independent audiovideo artist

theherdlesswitch

If you search for the light, you will find it.

TheFeatheredSleep

Tigers not daughters

VIEW FROM OUR SOFA

The Years of Watching Avidly

The Brokedown Pamphlet

war some of the time

cakeordeathsite

What would you choose?

Havoc and Consequence

(overcome your fears)

I am Lovely and Lonely and I Belong Deeply To Myself

May You Touch Dragonflies and Stars - Dance With Fairies and Talk to the Moon

As it Comes

A New Era

countingducks

reflections on a passing life

Poet Girl Em

Heartspeak

mindfoxblog

Poems from life

stu ART photo

Urban Minimal, Urban Abstract, and Urbanscapes by Stuart Allen

hijacked amygdala

unbolt me

the literary asylum

Weave a Web

Stories poems music thoughts magic

jdubqca

poetry by j matthew waters

Grandpa's Way

Muse Writer

harmonious volcabulary to substitute for the cacophony of life

THE BROKEDOWN COMIC

KINDA RAMSHACKLE

Alex Raphael

Entertainment, travel and lifestyle blog

Changing Skin and other stories

Creative Writing and unfinished business...

johnpoetflanagan

Wordifull

...poetry, stories & rants.

scottishmomus

What I See

Spartan Eye

Picturing the bleak

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