Little Victories

Tags

creative, poems, poetry, verse, writing

Such insignificant specks

On a tiny rock

Lost in time,

The edges of a space

Incomprehensible to all,

And yet how we cling

With unyielding grip

To our little victories:

Whose was the book,

Who wrote the word.

Who owned the sand,

Whose was the voice.

And who had you

In the dark.

We made our machines

To number our days

Each hour, each minute and less,

And hoped they would freeze

And hold us all there

In the moment we called our own,

We built us a place

To which to ascend

And find all our victories again,

But as dust on the wind

It was only a dream

Forgotten, as fleeting as breath,

With open-hand then

No reason to hold

Each moment a moment for one,

We let go the fear

Immortality’s hope

Built on victories so frail and

So small.

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2019

 

Advertisements

Green Swallows Me

Tags

creative, Desire, Journeys, loss, Love, lyric, poems, poetry, Sailing, Search, verse, writing

With the wind at our backs,

And hope in our sails,

We left these dead shores,

To mariner’s tales.

And under your watch,

We found ourselves led,

From cold weathered deck,

To comfort of bed.

 

I charted each course,

And marked every night,

Kept count of those lost,

Or stricken by blight.

I conquered the tides,

Or so it did seem,

Kept buried the fears,

Held fast to the dream.

 

And this ship will go down,

And all hands will be lost,

And the blind will still swim,

As the green swallows me,

‘cause I never knew when,

To let go.

 

We welcomed each shore,

Set foot on the sand,

And offered our gifts,

With quivering hand.

Whilst still in our ear,

The whispering wave,

Kept pulling us back,

This wasn’t our grave.

 

I clung to my map,

With bullish resolve,

As each new horizon,

Began to dissolve,

I saw myself then,

A mast that won’t bend,

A rudderless ship,

On a course that never ends.

 

And this ship will go down,

And all hands will be lost,

And the blind will still swim,

As the green swallows me,

‘cause I never knew when,

To let go.

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2019

 

Arm Around Your Waist

Tags

Control, creative, Fear, Love, Obsession, poems, poetry, verse, writing

Arm around your waist

Snakes like a disease

Fingers seeking flesh like clean air

And welcomed like a cure

Love’s touch draws patterns in the sky

Dances like the pure

Swirls curls with kissing clouds

And gathers in the shadows

Holds them close love’s cherished thoughts

Carves out cliffs with initialed tags

Brings the ancient to their knees

And boughs will bend to touch the ground

Before love’s floating fire

And all of this

The sweetest curse

A time that lasts for such

A fleeting eternity

Yet burns a hole that will not heal

Above our heads

Beneath our feet

An arm around your waist.

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2019

 

Walk Away

Tags

creative, death, Ghosts, Longing, loss, Love, poems, poetry, verse, Walk away, writing

And when you leave

Don’t turn around

Or leave the door ajar,

Just walk away

Without a smile

Don’t look me in the eye.

I’ll strip away

The years between

And hold them in my hands,

The days we stole

Without a word

And meaning in a glance.

I’ll carve them all

Into my skin

The hours that we shared,

The joke we knew

Would always end

When laughter turned to tears.

So when you go

Don’t blow a kiss

To ease you on your way,

Just walk away

I’ll watch you leave

Through gently drowning eyes.

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2019

 

They Said

Tags

Control, creative, faith, Lies, poems, poetry, politics, Promises, They Said, Truth, verse, writing

They said the Sun would always rise,

The clouds would always clear,

They said the light would always burn,

Beneath the wall of tears.

They said that this was all a game,

The rules we never learned,

They said that they would hold our hands,

But never said they’d burn.

They said that we would have our day,

That waiting always paid,

They said that all of this was ours,

Behind their backs the blade.

They said that if we held out nerve,

The steel in our backs,

They said that if we learned to bend,

Our spines would never crack.

They said that when we heard the bell,

We’d know just how to act,

They said that when it came to this,

They’d never break the pact.

They said that time would be our friend,

And shield us from our fears,

They said the Sun would always rise,

And the clouds would always clear.

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2019

 

Too Much to Lose

Tags

creative, Fear, loss, lyric, poems, poetry, Premonition, verse, writing

Too much to lose

Too much to lose

Can’t leave you now

And let you bruise,

Too much to lose

Too much to lose

Don’t want to fall

Or have to choose.

 

Waves come,

Crashing through the walls

I built in sleep,

Feel the tremors rise

I cannot close,

My eyes.

 

At night,

Even though I feel you

Close to me,

The nightmares take control

I cannot shake,

Them free.

 

Eyes wide,

But I can’t see a way

To end this fear,

Which burns within my chest

I cannot still

The beat.

 

Too much to lose

Too much to lose

Can’t leave you now

And let you bruise,

Too much to lose

Too much to lose

Don’t want to fall

Or have to choose.

 

Sometimes,

Even when I talk

Myself to sleep,

The demons still have hold

I cannot talk,

Them down.

 

Would I,

Give all that I know

To choose the time,

To open up the door

When I had served,

My time?

 

Or would I,

Close my eyes once more

In silent prayer,

To gods I cannot trust

To beg to keep,

Me here?

 

Too much to lose

Too much to lose

Can’t leave you now

And let you bruise,

Too much to lose

Too much to lose

Don’t want to fall

Or have to choose.

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2019

 

Afraid

Tags

Afraid, Change, creative, Fear, loss, poems, poetry, Truth, writing

Afraid

Of the night

The truths that hide in the shadows;

Of the day

And the light that reveals the flaws.

Afraid

Of the sounds

Which fill the rooms with laughter and tears;

Of the silence

And the demons which it feeds.

Afraid

Of the crowd

The sense of estrangement which grows;

Of the solitude

Which settles like an unfriendly ghost.

Afraid

Of inertia

Trapped in the mire of eternity;

Of change

And the loss of the ground beneath.

Afraid

Of the page

Its whiteness screaming in my ear;

Of the words

That give away far too much.

Afraid

Of death

And leaving so much left undone;

Of life

And all the doors left unopened.

Afraid.

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2019

 

Alone

Tags

Alone, creative, Life, poems, poetry, time, verse, writing

And the pages turn

And the numbers fade

Like they always have

And they always will

Wiping clean the slates

And erasing words

Hiding the faces

And fading the names

And we all look back

As we always do

Try to see the things

That were never there

And when out of sight

Means we’re out of mind

Did they really mean

Anything at all

If for just one day

We could see it all

Touch the ones we know

See if something’s real

Or just shy away

Like we always do

Afraid to make the move

To hide and die alone.

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2019

 

Underneath the floorboards

Tags

creative, Floorboards, poems, poetry, thoughts, verse, writing

Underneath the floorboards

Where the downstairs people lie

With their clay-heavy hands

And their hollow eyes blind,

Underneath the floorboards

With the roaches and the dreams

The lost coins and the fears

And nothing more to buy,

Underneath the floorboards

Where I cannot find my sleep

And all I taste is dust

And all that breathes is death,

Underneath the floorboards

With the grammar and the text

The stolen thoughts and smiles

That’ll never rise above,

Underneath the floorboards

Where the downstairs people lie

My feet between their teeth

The window out of reach.

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2018

 

On the Roof

Tags

creative, poems, poetry, verse, writing

I used to live

Up on the roof,

And trick myself

I knew the truth,

I’d smile at those

So far below,

And think of all

They’d never know.

 

I used to live

Upon the stair,

And never think

Of when or where,

I’d watch the days

They’d come and go,

And rise above

Their ebb and flow.

 

I used to write

My name in ink,

So those who passed

Might stop and think,

I’d leave my mark

On buildings high,

To mark my presence

In the sky.

 

I used to live

Upon the ground,

My voice silenced

Without a sound,

And all the things

I thought I knew,

Shattered broken

Now cast askew.

 

So now I live

Beneath the floor,

The game was missed

Forgotten score,

And when I look

Up to the sky,

I see the lost

The ones like I.

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2018