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

 

The Closeness of Circles

Tags

Connection, creative, isolation, poems, poetry, Relationships, The Closeness of Circles, Truth, verse, writing

How long did it take –

A day, a week, a month –

To realise

The width of a circle

And all that moves within

Touching always from a distance

Too safe, too sanitised

Too little revealed through

A door ajar

A netted window

Flickering – half a picture

Brush strokes on a hidden canvas

And all that falls from sight

The things that we

Are told we need

The things that we

Can do without

And the music that still plays

Sings so loud and brings

The circle closer still.

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2020

 

Passing Cars

Tags

creative, faith, Friends, Life, lyrics, Passing Cars, poems, poetry, Relationships, verse, writing

All this will end

And you’ll forget me,

Not what I’d hoped

But how it will be,

All this will go

Like clouds in Summer

What once was real

Now just a number.

 

Spent half our lives

In passing cars

Our faces pressed

Against the glass

Down long dark roads

In search of light

 

Parade ourselves

In colours bold

Or shades of grey

The mirror’s call

A brief sojourn

Along the way

 

All this will end

And you’ll forget me,

Not what I’d hoped

But how it will be,

All this will go

Like clouds in Summer

What once was real

Now just a number.

 

Aim for the crash

That shakes us free

A roadside fall

Into the arms

Of someone else

We pray will see

The road like us

 

And some we’ll leave

Along the way

And some will burn

Like dying stars

And some we’ll wish

Had stayed awhile

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2020

 

Lead You Home

Tags

creative, dreams, Lead You Home, night, poems, poetry, verse, writing

And the octopus-arm streets

Lead me here

And lead me there

But never take me far

From this town

Whose sea-serpent limbs wrap

Themselves about ankles

Both delicate and firm

Their resolve never broken

Never blessed by the birds

Who swoop the deep

And trail their angel-feather wings

Across the water

Across the lives

Kissing the gentle waves

As they lap the shore

Like the ghost-friend visit

Of dreams

Now remembered

Now lost

And on the horizon

Ever distant

Receding like the thawing summer floes

Forgotten swallows swirl

Singing softly to ears that

Will never hear

Never feel their warmth again

Drawn ever back

Through lattice-laced skies

The tentacled paths that burn

But only in the light

And lead you home at night

At night

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2020

 

In Histories

Tags

creative, history, In Histories, Lessons, poems, poetry, verse, writing

 

Fires now are all burned through

And hollow windows stared

Memories kept close to you

In priest-holes never shared,

Hands that cut your ragged stone

To hold the world at bay

Marked by time’s cold blood and moans

Feted Lords have their day,

Cast upon the bloodied land

Proclaim the rise of one

Beneath the foot, beneath the hand

Dynasties now gone,

And winter has the final word

In histories we fall

Ruins carved beneath the sword

In time repeated all.

 

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2020

Hanging On

Tags

creative, Hanging On, lyrics, music, poems, poetry, verse, writing

Blue lights flashing 

In the dead of the night

What have you done?

Oh, what have you done?

See inside though

The blinds are drawn

Keep it all in

Yes, keep it all in.

 

And we’re all hanging on

Hanging on by a thread

Hoping that it’s strong enough

To hold ’til morning comes.

 

Words like knives hang

High above our heads

Hide them so well

We hide them so well,

‘Til the tempers flare

And hearts bleed out

What did we mean?

Oh, what did we mean?

 

And up the stairs

All our monsters freed

Can’t hold them now

No, can’t hold them now,

And rage cuts cold

As deep as the fear

Can’t take it back

Can’t take it back now.

 

And we’re all hanging on

Hanging on by a thread

Hoping that it’s strong enough

To hold ’til morning comes.

 

Blue lights flashing 

In the dead of the night

What have you done?

Oh, what have you done?

Voices silent

In the dead of the night

What have we done?

Oh, what have we done?

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2020

 

Remember Me

Tags

creative, poems, poetry, Relationships, Remember me, Transience, verse, writing

When we passed upon the stair

My eyes raised up and yours so low

Our faces never met like

I had always dreamed that they would

Those days so distant, lives away

Nights of noise and dance and drink

Regretful sun-drowned hollow hours

I strangled each and every one

Behind the mirror-glass I saw

The landscapes painted at first light

When dawn’s soft lips still bore the kiss

And hands that brushed became a touch

But in the palace we had danced

Limbs and fingers grown like vines

And far below our bodies writhed

In forgotten corners dark

The truth grew flowers in your heart

To hide the weeds that choke me still

And when we passed upon the stair

I wished that you had

Remembered me.

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2020

 

Last Night

Tags

creative, dreams, Last night, Love, poems, poetry, Relationships, verse, writing

Last night I dreamed that

You had dreamed that

You had passed the hours

Making love with me

That day the sky had turned

From grey to white to blue

And every moment flowed

With crystal kisses like

The freshness of the waterfall

As unending as the hours that

Grew between us

And my eyes saw through yours

Each splinter of a heart which

Touched a spark in you and

You saw all you mean to me

These things that have no words

These things that move between us

In breaths as silent as the waves

Last night I dreamed that

You had dreamed.

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2020

 

Open Door

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