Seasons of something gone by



22/9/16 A poetry set about being affected; both positive and negative. Mute/Winter into Spring/...this nagging voice.../ Living Stone/The Adopted



This is the year I learnt not to speak.

It seems I had a lot to talk about.

Many things happening, 

all around me, even to me.

Best left unsaid.

I learnt that words are more powerful

than actions.

A smile and a nod.

This year I learnt how not to fight.

Still, it is hard,

fighting is such an ingrained behaviour.



Winter into Spring


The birds are tweeting

and the sunflowers close.

Do they wink?

The sun is high in the sky,

bright and glaring to look at,

yet still cold.

A wet hand freezes in the wind,

the pain of icy fingers,

live pink turned deathly white.



...this nagging voice...


Shake it out, shake it out...

surely there is a way

to escape this nagging voice

inside my skull.

Pinch my eyes closed,

tight against this incessant noise...

but there is no way out.

Lay me down, lay me down...

please don't pull me up.



Living Stone 


A voice from the past,

delivered through the mouth of a stranger.

Hello, old friend.

You felt like a challenge,

you did, you were,

but I wore you down, mate.

I wore a Rob-shaped groove into you

and it lasted well beyond our parting.

How fitting, then, that you should remember me

and call me back

with darkness from darkness,

into a glimmer of my own light.



The Adopted 


There is a chorus of you,

out there, all bearing my touch.

Whispering lessons I taught you

to yourselves, to others.


Like children, my children,

I marked you mine,

once mine always mine.

All of you.


Sometimes you speak to me,

some of you, few of you,

and you touch me...

from infinity into my reality.



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