Some Bonus Poems……
The Beach
a sea of faces never once the same ever changing flows flux
the babble bubble of voices
weaving whorls where eddies snare islands form dissipate reefs rise
with under currents of mood shoals shift and shimmer
carrying melancholia in the midst of where rhythms rise and fall
with the click clack percussion
music accidental harmonies discordant thoughts of broken orbits…
here a cold wave submerges me unities are illusions
sea mirages formed of the flotsam and jetsam of souls washed up here like
driftwood drying and lost sparkling with sea salt in the sun seized unresisting by the tide
different but all hopelessly the same tormented by the raw viscous undertow denying safe havens here
no storm safe moorings
i could cry out loud
but would not be heard only stared at temporarily
furniture forces patterns regularity aisles channel human currents
in and out in and out the irresistible tide
here lurks regularity dead but fed by this human flow predatory human thoughts like hungry sharks
there is no Unity only Chaos inescapable no safe havens no comfort
dragging anchors torture
And so,
All that is solid melts into air, All that is solid
Melts into air
All that is solid…*
Sand Castles at the Seaside
Routines, rituals, familiar faces
The people the places,
We wrap them around us
For comfort against the Cold
But they cling so insubstantial
Shifting, frail and fragile,
Only change is consistent
Almost solid;
Almost beating.
Routines disintegrate Rituals degenerate
Reasons eroded, forgotten.
Faces grow old and fade,
Inner energies ebbing
Essences weeping through time,
Dying; Suddenly they are all gone.
Places become hollow without
People conch shells
Echoing the lusted for,
Listen; The warm hum of familiar laughter and voices,
Now lost with the attrition of the Unrelenting tide of time,
Almost Solid, Almost beating.
Foundations crumble,
Gone is the comforting embrace Of some homely place,
Bonds forever breaking, The fabric our sanities cling to, The warp and waft of our worlds Disintegrates,
Tearing us apart.
At times you can feel even hear,
The cold hooves and sharp spurs Of a Fifth Horseman
And his chaos
Solid, almost beating.
Urged into a perpetual restlessness,
We seek new horizons Securities, anchor points,
From where like gale blown spiders
We can weave webs anew.
But now feel it all,
See the signs and watch you image fade,
Leak away before you in the bathroom mirror,
There are no sanctuaries,
No Safe anchorages from this storm.
Our centres are insubstantial,
Our patterns fleeting and temporary,
Geometry without points,
An irrational science,
Fluid in flux;
Sandcastles at the Seaside,
We as children build.
TANK
Scale slides silent,
Almost effortless,
In denser mediums
Overlooked for years
Closer still and here,
On bony heads,
Orb eyes pivot in Metronomic arcs,
Open lenses which
Snare the lazy glance.
Dreamlike these sublime gliders,
You sink slowly
To succumb and stare
In their timeless
Inner tensions leak,
Pressures abate pumped
And purified through
Silent captive gills,
Buoyant on the fin and scale
Of treasure fish.
Breathing in the Dark,
I heard you,
Breathing in the dark,
Caught a glimpse of your moon kissed profile
As I stirred,
In the darkest hour before dawn.
I breathed you in on the soft breeze of a summer night,
Captured your essence and thought I saw
Your supine form amongst a silver, moon washed landscape
Of pillows and crumpled bed sheets.
I thought I felt the hum of your glowing skin
Under my searching fingers,
Tasted the fruits of your parted lips,
And lingered in the sweetness of our fleeting union.
But I guess you were never really there at all.
So as the moon slips earthward,
And the sun flirts with the dawn,
I believe you just a cherished dream,
But, to breech my waking sobriety,
I still hear you,
Breathing softly in the dark.
Just for a moment
the light changed as the sun
escaped the ragged clouds,
and just for a frozen moment,
you were 20 again,
with a smooth, flawless skin
and a luscious smile
that caused chaos in me,
all those years ago
just for a moment
your hair gleamed bright and healthy golden,
yet as dark as the desires
that seized my soul,
hooked by your sensual spell
that drew me closer,
melting my inhibitions,
all those years ago
Just for a moment
I saw those gemstone eyes and
I nearly slipped and skidded
into your arms again,
fell forever trapped in your spell,
and the bone pit of your
unrelenting vanity,
that had to have me,
just because you could,
all those years ago
Now the sky darkens and
you are a stranger again,
A stooped and grey skinned wraith
your magic stolen somewhere,
so we pass in the street
without a word, and only a
distant whimper in my heart.
But just for a moment.
Dull Days
The Crow’s rock beak beats the brown field
Wind pierces the stretching parchment of my exposed skin
Rain shards cut like slivers glass
Dog strains on leash
Darkening days
The Crow twists his oily hammer head to me
The squall beats and tears me roughly
Stinging rain dulls the nerves like lignacaine
Dog strains on leash
Rain clouds billow spiritless
The Crow’s grey judging eye fixes me
Wind slaps my stinging face
Rain fingers slide coldly down my spine
Dog strains on leash
Dusk slips its mantle into the world
Crow blinks his knowing grey eye
Wind moans in the whipping wires
Rain splatters the winding path
Dog’s eyes implore me to go home
The Crow is rising on his claws
Unfolding his phantom wings
And he captures my sinking soul
In the blink of that dark angel’s eye
The hammers fall
Wings explode and unfurl to flight like a dark crucifix
Stigmata burn in my wet pal
ms
He is gone
It seems there will be no salvation today.
About the Author
David Denny lives in Abbots Bromley, Staffs.
For most of his life he has lived in nearby Uttoxeter, apart from a expedition to the South during which time he lived and worked in London, Oxford and Essex.
He has degree in Modern Continental Philosophy and works as a Career Adviser and has always had an interest in ideas and writing.
He has recently completed a gothic fantasy novel entitled The Seed of Corruption, take a look at www.thedoomofdubh.com
David is always interested in reaction to his work good or bad, critical or just downright cynical, so drop him an e-mail if you wish.
[email protected] Find me also at www.Reverbnation.com, reading my work and also on Facebook at the Poetry of David Denny.
Also Twitter #englishpoet
Copyright
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2017
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The Siege of Beacon Hill
Copyright. All Rights
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David Denny
2008
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