Viaticum 3 – Wooden hands

Tags

Belief, creative, Expectations, faith, poems, poetry, Series, verse, Viaticum, Wooden hands, writing

 

 

Knotted fingers work their skill

Sculpting nature’s giants,

As passion flows through hands

Designed to make things new.

Hematic flow from skin to grain

Rekindles life anew,

This touch like cryptesthesia

Animation from the dead.

And now you try to steal this love

To touch another’s flesh,

To breathe life within a kiss

And raise an amaranthine army.

These hands show dried and lifeless

Now splintered from mis-use,

Cut from weeping saplings

And drowned in blood of men.

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2019

 

 

 

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Viaticum 2 – Mother Ambition

Tags

creative, faith, Mother Ambition, poems, poetry, random, Series, verse, Viaticum, writing

Look at me now

Eyes blinded by pride

Stand tall amongst

Your allies

And shield yourself

From truth.

Your creation stands

Before the desperate fall

And voices cry

To feel the words

You could never

Form.

Does the image

Make the man so

Understated I stand

Arms asunder

Face so torn

From pleading.

And did I disappoint

From child to man

I fell

Drowned in expectation

Desire to do

Your will.

 Yet still they cry

Fuelled by your love

Your folly

The time I lost

I cannot set

Them free.

And look at me now

Eyes blinded by tears

Wept solely

For me

The failures of men

Your pride.

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2019

 

 

 

Viaticum 1 – Mary

Tags

creative, Devotion, faith, Love, Mary, poems, poetry, Series, verse, Viaticum, writing

The sacrifice is on the table,

The gift I would lay down,

To dive into your ocean

Be swallowed by your swell.

But deep within your soul,

I feel rejection rise,

Taste the words from your mouth

Of unholy unworthiness.

Am I too pure, too perfect,

If only you knew,

How earth-held pleasures

Rise up within me.

I catch the tear as it slips,

Feel your touch at my feet,

But what words can I find

To unlock the truths?

What words can I find,

To show you the man,

Without the walls of your world

Coming crashing down?

 

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2019

 

Something Better

Tags

creative, disappointment, hope, Life, Love, lyrics, poems, poetry, Regret, Relationships, Something better, verse, writing

She hoped for something better,

She hoped for something more,

More than just a letter,

And petals on the floor.

 

Killed hours behind the window,

Lost days before they came,

Gave away her heart’s glow,

For moments all the same.

 

She thought he’d set her free,

And dream the dreams she did,

She pours a cup of tea,

But never lifts the lid.

 

She waits upon the sofa,

And lays awake at night,

For sleep to take her far,

So far away from sight.

 

But real love lives in moments,

The ones you give away,

And no-one knows the lengths she goes

To make it through the day.

Real love lives in other’s hearts,

Behind the melting eye,

And no-one knows the lengths she goes,

To lock away each sigh.

 

She hoped for something better,

She hoped for something more,

More than just a letter,

And petals on the floor.

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2019

 

Sooted Kisses

Tags

creative, Deception, faith, poems, poetry, politics, verse, writing

Digging so deep

Deep beneath the soil

The rocks that strain up to meet me

Like the souls of the sleepless dead

Their voices echoing in the chambers

Of a restless head

Abandoned too late not to leave scars

Backlit by dreams that missed

The Mayday call

That sank like rain on charred and thirsty earth

Still weeping in the splintered light

Which fell fractured through the cracks

Pick axe cut and soaked

In miner’s bloody tales

Those buried in loss and hollow-eyed

Blinded by the notion of all they’d lost

And all they’d never find

Their nasal words

Choked in sooted kisses promised from above

That slip like venomous snakes

Into their lungs

To silence the echoes in the hearts

That strike a soundless beat

That roars with anger

In my ears.

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2019

 

Never Quite This Warm

Tags

creative, Depression, Life, Never quite this warm, nostalgia, poems, poetry, verse, winter, writing

Wanted to feel seasons

Count colours in the sky,

The winters of the past

Were never quite this warm.

Wanted you to hold me

Feel snow upon our lips,

Beneath an icy moon

Kept warm against the cold.

Wanted to taste the night

Fresh kisses on my tongue,

Clean sun against our backs

As hand in hand we were.

Long days without an end

Wasted time never lost,

Each moment perfect, new

Eyes coloured in the sky.

Curled safe within the sheets

With arms and legs entwined,

You never looked so good

As naked in the dark.

And walking through our dreams

With feet that never ran,

The soundtrack of our days

Played sweetly in our heads.

Wanted to feel seasons

Count colours in the sky,

The winters of the past

Were never quite this warm.

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2019

 

Doorways

Tags

creative, Doorways, poems, poetry, verse, writing

Doorways in the evening

Take me down

Corridors of the past

A wave of etchings in the aquamarine

Pulsing like an umbilical cord cut

Still living now in the open

Air swirling through the coats

Which hang from shoulders although

The cold has passed

And naked hands new formed

With the evening

Feel their passage from doorway to doorway

Tentative steps on roads that fold out

Like a child’s first-drawn map

The ground still soft familiar beneath my feet

Calling out for you to set the fires

To burn away the lines and faces which blur

As doorways give way to doorways

And roads bend to the will of the day

With the sweet song of the blackbird

Still ringing in the air like a charm

And the waves lap gently against my feet

Unclothed now breech-born and new

Like the thoughts that blow in through windows

Which grow and fade with the mist

The morning dew that comes

And burns in the sun

Which closes doorways with

Silent hands.

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2019

 

Shells

Tags

Change, creative, faith, history, Humanity, Life, poems, poetry, Revelation, Shells, thoughts, time, Truth, verse, World, writing

She sells shells from off the beach

Lifts the pennies from their eyes

And then fades away,

Slowly drifting through the crowd

Clothes that cannot mark her time

Whispers in their ears.

 

Hand scratch scars upon her face

Trace the days she never had

Curled upon the ground,

Rock-pool tears that kiss the shore

As the sea calls out her name

Disappears once more.

 

And for awhile we see

All as it’s meant to be

Until we turn away

Back to the world we made

And all the things we see

How we want it to be

A world we’d never change

Or seek to rearrange

 

Angry tides rise up again

Sweep away all that she knew

Kisses on the sand,

Faces lost amongst the clouds

Trapped forever in her box

Buried out at sea.

 

She sells shells from off the beach

Lifts the pennies from their eyes

And then fades away,

Slowly drifting through the crowd

Clothes that cannot mark her time

Whispers in their ears.

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2019

 

Over Again

Tags

creative, Life, Love, Over again, poems, poetry, Regret, verse, writing

Don’t wait until

The door has closed

Until the curtain’s drawn,

Don’t wait until

The dreams you had

Are flowers on the lawn.

Don’t close your eyes

And trust in fate

To open up the day,

Or wish upon

A star that won’t

Illuminate the way.

Don’t count the days

And with them all

The chances you have lost,

Or sit so still

In corners dark

And watch spring turn to frost.

Don’t hesitate

To speak the words

To those you hold so dear,

Just tell them now

And everyday

And wipe away the fear.

Take those you love

Into your world

And tell them they belong,

Love them now with

All you are then

Over and over again.

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2019

 

Turned Away

Tags

age, creative, dreams, faith, Life, loss, Love, nostalgia, poems, poetry, Relationships, thoughts, Truth, Turned away, verse, writing

She sits and waits the tv glows

Stares pictures on the wall,

She wonders if they’ll ever know

The days she turned away.

He watches faces on the screen

As nameless they pass by,

He sees her still in youthful dream

But would not change a thing.

She dreams of ships with billowed sail

Her foot upon their bow,

And moons that wax and moons that pail

Horizons silent now.

He thinks of doors that always closed

And wished them all away,

Each detail drawn each gateway posed

He’d climb them all again.

She pictures faces that she knew

And counts them over stiles,

How many seen how known so few

She wonders how they fell.

He holds himself within his shell

The bottle comes again,

The stories that he’ll never tell

Die slowly deep inside.

She sits and waits the tv glows

Stares pictures on the wall,

She wonders if they’ll ever know

The days she turned away.

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2019