| Who bleeds? |
Nov 21, 2006 4:24 am
1190 Views | There is a trail of
Blood that stretches
Across a continent.
I smelled that blood
Even as it fell and
Without looking
To see who was
Bleeding
Believed it to be
My own. | |
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7 Comments | |
| After Dylan Thomas |
Nov 21, 2006 3:52 am
1110 Views | The light has died.
But if he had not raged
so hard against its
dying, would it
have burnt out
so soon? | |
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2 Comments | |
| She left a bomb in my room |
Nov 20, 2006 10:22 am
1170 Views | She left a bomb in my room
The day she left forever.
She didn't tell me.
I don't think she knew
What she'd done.
I discovered it by accident
Some months later.
I didn't know what
I'd found. So I left it
Where it was.
It exploded silently one night.
My body was torn apart.
Limbs severed, innards splashed
Across the walls and floor
Of my darkened room.
I didn't die that night
(Although I thought I would).
The scars are fading now.
A mute tapestry stitched
Beneath my skin.
At times, the echoes
Of that silent explosion
Twist the shrapnel that
Lies embedded in my body,
Piercing my heart anew.
She left a bomb in my room
The day she left forever.
She didn't tell me.
I don't think she knew
What she'd done. | |
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5 Comments | |
| I fell.... |
Nov 20, 2006 10:06 am
1151 Views | I fell and
even as you
reached to save me
I turned and
accused you
of pushing. | |
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5 Comments | |
| For the Spanish speakers amongst you |
Nov 20, 2006 10:02 am
1029 Views | Below is my first attempt at
poetry in Spanish. I'm still
working on the English version...
Esta noche, que es mi vida,
una estrella fugaz pasa
por el cielo tiritando y canta.
Canta los mares y las tierras
y cae al rocío del alba su canto
como fuego.
Esta noche, que es mi vida,
los rios del alma
cuentan de las nubes historias
donde nacen las aguas
que caen de mis ojos al suelo
como sangre.
Esta noche, que es mi vida,
se mezclan el fuego y la sangre
y los huesos de la tierra.
Y los cantos de las estrellas
dan vida a mis sueños mas tristes
como el amor. | |
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2 Comments | |
| Ballad of an English teacher in Spain on a Friday afternoon |
Nov 17, 2006 6:17 am
1074 Views | Strung out, hyped up,
ready to run,
ready to rock
and roll.
Straining at the leash,
champing at the bit,
letting their hair down
slow.
Don't want to write,
Don't want to talk,
Just want to get up
and go.
I love this job,
But on a Friday,
Teaching is just
no go. | |
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2 Comments | |
| no wise words |
Nov 16, 2006 10:28 am
1109 Views | I'd like to help
to say
it'll be ok
and I'm trying
really
I am
but now and again
the words don't come
and I reach
for the words
of others
to use second hand thoughts
that don't belong
to me
but there are no wise words
apart from
your own
and the one
you love. | |
|
8 Comments | |
