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Disclaimer:

This will be truthful.

Not the pretentious made up me,

That I zipped on to meet you at a bar.

That wasn’t a date,

It was a paraded show.

Favourite jeans and trainers,

Sunk into a cinema seat.

That’s how you will get to know me.

Mandatory conditions for application:

A gamer of undead proportions,

Plus movie buff who can open my eyes.

Thou shall not judge music,

So no prune face when I mention Metalica.

Product warning:

My hair doesn’t smell of strawberries,

And I sometimes forget to have my legs waxed.

But I will accept your man pants sprawled across the flat,

And bacon sarnies instead of your 5 a day.

As we shoot our way through a Sunday afternoon,

Avoiding the sunlight of convention.

May be we can we fall in love. 

The Talk

One side step,

And approximately 13 hours off a decade,

Can love just stop?

Has a power switch been flicked,

Or a memory ray flashed before my eyes.

The talk ends,

Your subconscious breathes.

Now we are just acquaintances,

Standing three feet apart.

Routine must suddenly cease,

Autopilot clocks off without a trace.

Love in the physical,

Not an issue - just roll over.

You take cool steps to stage exit,

But mental heat hangs on.

For something true that drained away like sand,

Has just landed its last sucker punch before it was gone.

Not 1973 (Office Work)

Do you not see passed the handbag and necklaces?

I feel at one with the suffragettes.

Except, the modern interpretation chains me to a desk,

Incarcerated by forms and procedure.

You have no power here over anyone,

Yet gain strength by hiding behind battlements of experience.

Preaching equality and fairness to the higher beings,

Afterwards you stamp out dreams that question you.

Fresh blood is spilt and drained,

Refusing to pump it into the aging veins that need it.

You push and push to the edge of reason,

Did you not realise that we will jump off?

Crashing down the steps of progress,

To lay crumpled like discarded post its.

Bamboo Moments

Tinkering leaves,

Fingers tap in the breeze.

Lime green spears,

Your delicate image draws me near.

Sway and quiver,

I watch you shiver.

No support in your branches,

As you bow to the elements in natural arches.

I smile as you giggle,

Wanting to hide in your safe bubble.

Silently dancing with you at dusk,

Hate leaving but I must.

Tranquillity rooted in time,

Simplicity that’s yours becomes mine.

Can of Loneliness

Strongbow can with a straw,

After hours on a cold damp wall.

Just like that of the one who left it,

Alone after dark in the dew filled air.

No one to notice it,

And no body cares -

About you,

Faceless teen.

Drinking into forgetfulness,

Through a petit plastic straw.

Holding a thought of girly youth,

Refusing to accept the teenage alcoholic’s dream.

No time for ice or a glass,

Not even four walls and a bar.

Ring pull to your innermost secrets,

Now contorted permanently open revealing who you are.

Italian Dreams

Lapping tides of rhythm around you,

Twirled ribbons of passion embrace.

Bite your lip to savour the moment,

Then close your eyes and freeze.

Swell of genius,

Pounding heart of bass.

Synchronicity of minds,

Envelops hundreds of souls.

Dancing up towards the ceiling,

Tumbling down to the strings.

Perfect pauses hold your breath,

Whispered words as his piano sings.

I can’t dance,

But I can dream.

Dream of pas de deux,

Limbs caressed and flowing like reeds in a stream.

Notes follow actions,

Growing like sweeping trees on stage.

Cello bow strokes the vibrations,

Simplicity cries your lament.

Mist rises around your thoughts,

Like a ballerina thrust into the air.

Spotlights highlight your fragility,

And tulips cascade for those who care.

Waves crash at their seats as they trust you,

Italian dreams carry them away.

Chasing up towers and running through labyrinths,

As pumping anticipation descends into darkness.

Here we go people....

Here goes nothing - I've taken advice from several in the know and they said 'You don't have a blog for your poetry?!' Thus I took the subtle hint...
My aim is to post at least 1 poem every couple of weeks to keep the old creative juices flowing. I'm looking for comments, critisims and mockery to help shape my work with an additional eye to getting used to my poems being seen by other people.