Over the past several months or so, you’ve all seen the odd item here and there, where I’ve let you know about certain poems that have been accepted for inclusion in various magazines.
Now that they have started to be published, I thought I’d share some of those works, so you can get a little taster of what my mind is all about.
Many of them are theme based, and that is reflected by their tone.
And be warned. The last item has strong language. So watch out for the weird and wonderful.
Faith – (Screech Owl)
Forgotten paths once trodden,
Neglected by this modern world...
And scoffed at.
But the lodestone of my heart pulls me,
Urging me to discard the new and reclaim the old.
So I take a leap of faith
And am lost in the right direction.
Crush – (Screech Owl)
The oppressive weight
Of knowing nothing will ever change,
Invisible bands of restrictive constriction,
I am squeezed...
Until there’s nowhere left to breathe.
Breath – (Screech Owl)
Bathed in starlight
My consciousness, released.
Free of the burden of restraint,
The inner theater of my mind drops the curtain-call
Of self-indulgent, self-righteous pity,
And I soar.
I’ve cast off the shroud that blinded me to truth,
Released the tourniquet
Strangling the flow of mystic possibilities,
Now I think.
My altered state dares the current of the Styx,
The river of the shadow of all my doubts...
And I am released.
I taste the bitter frigidity of the firestorm,
Drink the sands of the cruelest tempest,
Bathe in the fragrance of the bitter cyclone,
And I surrender to the power deep within.
I’ve let go of the stagnant void stifling me,
And for the first time in my life...
I can actually breathe.
Silence is Golden – (Muse-Pie Press/Shot Glass Journal)
If silence is golden,
Then how can we ever calculate the value,
Of a word spoken at the right time?
Or that act of compassion,
That changes someone’s life for the better?
The Future is Crayon – (Penny Ante Feud – Shoe Music Press)
The one sat in the corner, writing on your wall and eating crayons.
Now you know why my language is so colourful,
You smother my creativity in the straightjacket of brain-vomit,
Spewed from the gaping holes of the masses,
And have the gall to imagine
That I’d put on your rose-tinted spectacles,
And give you a High-Five?
I’ll give you five alright.
In fact, they come in pairs called Left and Right.
Here, enjoy them both,
You look so much better without your teeth,
Did you honestly think
You could stamp my passport to the land of the bland,
And sneak my bleached-out mind through customs?
“Have you anything to declare, Sir,”
I’m stuck on six o’clock,
And I’m already late for my own tea party.
But what do you care?
Medicated, I’m about as spontaneous as a cliff and as subtle as a nail-gun.
So, do me a favor,
Get down off my camel,
Stuff your hand down your throat,
Grab your nuts, and pull hard!
Please, turn yourself inside out.
I could do with a laugh.
Give me a blunt knife and I’ll cut them off for you.
There you go. I hope you enjoyed this little taster. If you want to find out more, take a look in the links to the right of this blog for more a wider selection of poetry or fiction from Pagan Writers Press & Ishtar Press.
See you next time