A life...

A life on fire,
burning with passion,
searing, enraging,
engulfing everything.

A life on the edge,
needle-sharp emotions,
razor-like decisions,
about to topple over.

A life sinking fast,
swamped by everything,
washed under,
soaked and rung out.

A life of ice,
cold, bleak, demanding,
exhilarating and nerve -tingling,
but deadly.

Which one is yours?

What place is this?...

What place is this?

A silent echo, the roar of thunder...

The blinding light, a veil of crushing dark...
A history of emptiness,
So full of space.
Did once the sun and moon both rise,
'twere ever so.

Lift up my face,
Sweet odour of roses, jasmine, honeysuckle,
Heavy, towering and sickly,
Press me down, run me over.

A heat at once, intense and searing,
Chilling, burning,
Freezing,
Drying,
Not comfort,
But ultimately suffering.

Noise of wind,
Ever sighing, Forever roaring,
Breath of life soft,
Destruction in its spin,
Both but all at once.

You feel alive but,
Dead,
Feel pain,
Experience no sensations,
Touch life and hold dreams but
Let things slip things though your
Fingers.

What place is this?

The night

I've seen the clouds go rolling,

thought the dark, mid-winter sky,

as I stood still to hear the sounds of night,

not quiet at all, but low & subtle.

The dripping of the captured rain-drops,

falling from the bare tree branches,

as the wind lifts up the sounds of distant traffic,

and people returning from evenings out.

The swish of a cyclist riding home from a late-shift,

furtive animal, almost silent in the inky dark,

I don't feel scared or lost,

Its just peaceful and calm.

The dark isn't a place for playing games,

reading a book, or trying to sew,

but it surely helps hide the tears,

or comfort the soul.

A dream too far.

I wished for romantic evenings,
holding hands as we walked along.
Candle-lit dinners & whispers of careless moments,
sandy walks, long, uninterrupted.
Of secluded nights, blissful mornings,
Learning to know each other, getting to understand,
appreciate & forgive each other.

And eventually,
a life spent with the one who knew me best,
the one who trusted me, respected me,
treated me as an equal,
listened to me & and let me listen to them.
The one who didn't put me on a pedestal,
or put me down.
But was it a dream too far?

Running...

Running a race,
Running with the tide,
Running out of ideas,
Running out of time,
Running a risk,
Running high.
Running at a loss,
Running a fever,
Running around in circles,
Running behind,
Running up a hill,
Running out of steam,
And I'm Running out of Ideas......

So I travelled on.

Wandering though a barren land,

I came upon an empty place,

a house which had no roof, no door, no windows,

the wind raising leaves rushing around the lace

all tatty suspended from the gaping holes where once

a careful owner had chosen pretty coverings,

to shade the rooms from the heat of the sun.

Moving on along the road,

I saw a river in which the water

had turned a tepid, turgid green,

no longer able to flow gently,

but just slowly sliding 'tween it's banks,

no life containing, nor suitable for drinking by

any creature which valued it's life.

Further on I spied a city,

whose walls were crumbling,

covered in vines where anything was standing,

it's buildings neglected and ignored,

roads cratered, fences fallen,

not a person tending a care.

So I travelled on.

Nothing more than a name.

Alive, yet, life passes me by.

Awake, but feeling like sleep.

Hearing, but sound melts into a pool of randomness, meaning little.

Seeing, colours bleeding, edges blurred.

Feeling, texture all the same, nothing hard or soft, wet or cold, hot or dry.

Human, devoid of emotion however, having lost the ability to love or hate in equal measure.

Sentient, but unthinking, moving moment to moment, responding to the pushing of others.

Eating, tasting nothing, no satisfaction from nourishment.

A life in nothing more than name.........