J G's Pages for Poets

Page No 20

 
Poem No 126

by MARK WAKEHAM

FUNERAL

Respectfully, I turned away,

Shadows fell, end of a day,

The curtains drawn since yesterday,

The monument to death.

A crystal tear slid down my face,

Another time, another place,

Empty tributes laced with grace,

Just whispers in their breath.

 

You died, I cried a thousand times,

A thousand voices chanted rhymes

of death, and bells rang ice cold chimes,

The past etched in your skin.

You left me in my hour of need,

You said you cared, you said you'd bleed,

To make with me a new bold breed,

Your promises so thin.

 

 

_____________________________________


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Poem No 127  by  JIM LOVE

Memories of 1982 and the Falklands Islands 

WHAT I MISS MOST

I MISS THE LADS.

I MISS THOSE CRISP CLEAR NIGHTS ,
WHEN THE FROST GLISTENS IN THE MOONLIGHT.
I MISS THOSE LONELY EXPOSED HILLS,
LASHED BY THE RAIN.
I MISS THE YOUNG AND INNOCENT FACES ,
SOME OF WHOM WE’LL NEVER SEE AGAIN .


I MISS THE LAUGHTER AND THE CRACK .

I MISS THEIR  MORBID  HUMOUR ,
THE CHILDISH PRANKS AND UNSPOKEN LAWS .
I MISS THE SENSE OF BELONGING,
  THAT UNIQUE BOND .
I MISS YOUTH AT IT’S BEST ,
THOUGH I’LL GROW OLD ,UNLIKE THE REST.


WHAT I MISS MOST ?

I MISS THE LADS .

© Jim Love Author's Comments on "WHAT I MISS MOST"
I miss the one's that died. I also miss the guys I served in the army with . Some of whom are still alive.

 

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Poem No 128 by DAMIAN DEUS

 

                      Last Night
 
The liquid of your mouth,
your warmth.
Were my reward:
In the real cold,
Of a Coruna night.
 
We ate and talked.
Across a rustic table.
We should have kissed,
across it.
 
We drank rioja.
And we drank
 each other.
 
The drink of you,
Your taste.
Made a cold night
Special.
 
                                 Damian Deus

 

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Poem No 129

A second poem from JIM LOVE

 

Becky

I AM BEING POISONED.

PEOPLE WHOM I DON’T EVEN KNOW,
CONSPIRE TO KILL ME!
AS I FLOAT IN THIS EMPTY DARKNESS,
FRAIL,
BLIND TO THE WORLD,
HELPLESS.

IN MY ANGER AND FRUSTRATION I KICK OUT.
BUT I’M TRAPPED.

THERE ARE TOXINS WHICH ARE BEING ABSORBED BY MY
BODY,
NICOTINE.
THEY SLOWLY INHIBIT MY ABILITY TO THINK CLEARLY.
ALCOHOL.
FOR SOLACE I SUCK MY THUMB.

I HAVE SEEN BEYOND SIGHT.
WE ARE AS ONE, I AM PART OF HER SOUL.
I KNOW HER FEARS,
AND I HAVE THE ANSWERS.
BUT THEY DO NOT LISTEN.

I HAVE TALKED WITH DOLPHINS.
I’VE SURFED WITHOUT A NET .
IN MY ANGER I LASH OUT AGAIN.

THE VOICE FLOATS DOWNWARDS,
FROM OUT OF THE DARKNESS, FROM THE OTHER SIDE OF THE
UNIVERSE.
WHAT ARE YOU HOPING FOR?

IT DOESN’T MATTER
AS LONG AS IT’S HEALTHY.
REPLIES MY SOUL MATE
MY MOTHER.

© Jim Love

Author's Comments on "Becky"
I have bonded very well with both of my children.Becky was the first and I got to hold her straight after the birth. Eye contact and all that. Deep stuff.

 

 
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Poem No 130

 music
 by alpha

 is music a glorious goddess
 or just a whore?
 a pliant but dangerous servant to
 power politics
 ideologies
religions
 and wars alike
 offering adaptable illusions
 mirror-sounds of
 love, joy and ecstacy
 sorrow, pain
 solace
 the glory and fear of god
 patriotism
 torture
 murder
 death
 and bird song

 Chopin is verboten in the Warsaw Ghetto
 the Umsiedlungsaktion has started
 on platform 2
 however
 musicians are allowed to
bring their instruments


 music
 that dubious commodity
 a whoring goddess

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