#355
Bulbous streetlights reaching for droplets of light
splattered from the grey fountain above,
my pace slowed through puddles
my thoughts sweet, and still,
heels thudding off the slicked brick pavement,
rain tapping over my hood
another evening detouring through the garden
a scenic route on the way home
#356
Pressure jumps upon me, breaking
the spell of dreaming
leads into the dining room
to watch the storm, those
lost missing pouring sounds,
thumping on the ceiling, the
characters of my dreams
pulling the sheets, dropping the
fort, dragging down the stairs
outside under a broken umbrella
leaping in puddled lakes.
In flashes of light i look at gorgeous
murals, painted humans, captured colours,
and walk till my legs grow weary,
through the whining front door,
i strike the kettle, and climb to the couch
under an old blanket, filled with wonder,
swimming in the shadows of the lightless
living room, i pop the stereo to fill the space,
my sweet Billie Holiday sings me back to sleep.
#357
Skying in the entrance
my eyes squeezed shut
i start rolling in fantasies,
dreams, play, and such,
its nothing comforting to see,
more old friends passing in the streets
people perhaps forgotten finally
bumping into me, a familiar breeze
relaxes as it sets upon my face
my eyes so wide
so open
and my heart eager to run, to chase
and though i may stroll solo,
it seems i’m not alone,
theres a familiar feeling
my hands in hand, and
the clocks forever frozen,
as i move on heel to toe,
my favourite minute, and hour,
our shining moment captured,
a bounty a share, a smile reflected in dew,
streets echoing song and laughter,
of this sunny nation is my most favourite
place, a fined tuned home, brimming in rest,
first choice when my weary soles are worn,
the kissing ease of the colours, architecture,
a bliss, low how all them conscious engines
feel forced to race, learn, and leave solved
problems, puzzle fuelled furled brows,
i coast through gardens, and parks,
past flowers, stretch my heads, stretch my fingers
brush their petals, wave to the towers,
so nice to see you neighbour,
shortly may we pass again, for the roads here
lead in circles, no end to no beginnings,
knotted in a never end,
yes pease join me for a coffee, for a sup,
and whiskey to retire, our conversations
spark the sandalwood, fires without tires,
in the night bloom of jasmine
the perfume of purple dusk,
i’ll sit in a worn in armchair,
sit in my gratitude, unsure if my eyes are open
or closed, confident that i am as home as my heart.
#358
Their secrets,
oh how they come dancing,
summoned by nothing
maybe a tone, or strike of posture
something calls, and they answer,
then i answer, again and again.
#359
Verse the expanse of the universe
or the depths of existence,
i won’t bow,
i won’t bow.
i won’t grovel,
i won’t kneel.
No matter the what, no matter how humbling
despite crushing nothing,
or smiting beings,
i just wont bow.
Wash away with the shocking,
in opposition of well laid plans,
i’ll trust my intuitive pulls to the light,
despite what may rise, you’ll see me stand,
standing tall, here, ready.
Thanks for joining! Find poems through out the week on my instagram @monsieurwrite
Don’t forget to check out the poems being recited on The Write Stuff podcast!
Take care, call your family, tell them you love them.
wazoo!
-Mr. Write