Poems from a Sad Heart

Since I have to keep you guys interested in my blog and for the moment I am a bit off as far as writing poems is concerned, I'll further down a few poems by a chap Alan Brewis ..... These are all poems as per what the title of the post suggests and I have really like them a lots... Hope you find one for an occasion that suits you... Ciao. ;)


‘First-born’ (A Father’s View)

Did you know that I held you
as you took your first breath?
All wrinkled and blue,
right fist first,
just like superman,
you flew out
from the womb of your mother
into the heart of my lover
and I held you, so close,
then looked down at this miracle of life,
my son…
my first born.

Did you know it was I
that, with razor edged steel
severed the chord
which, until that time
had nourished you…
given you life?

And after,
as I held you,
I looked down at my lover,
at the eyes of a mother,
and stood there, in awe,
at what she had done.
Then she smiled up at me,
and reached out for you,
for her son…
her first born.

And so I gave you to her,
the one who had made you,
inside her own self,
and I cried at the wonder
that had given me you…
my first born…
my son.



Dragonflies

T’was humid warm, on yester’ morn,
‘neath rays of sun so bright.
On grass still dew’d,
I turned the hedge -
beheld a wond’rous sight!


A score (or more!), reflecting sun
from scales of azure blue :
Be-jewelled light,
in darting flight -
the host defied the few.

A myriad ants, on wings of lace,
rose bravely to the skies.
But few extant,
will win their race -
against blue dragon-flies.


I stood in awe, as bravely flew,
the driven host - until…
a heartbeat…,
then, all gone -
and empty air turned peaceful still.


Blue dragonflies, full sated,
simply vanished out of sight.
Whilst lace’ed wings -
on freedom's wind -
flew on, in morning light.








Begone

Begone! Oh wretch'ed soul with hollow heart
resounding deepest tones of guilt.
Thou see'est not through Poet's eyes
Tis in hypocrisy thine life is built -
and, hiding truth - thou breathest lies.

With platitudes and wagging tongue, thine die is cast,
But, among enlightened souls
Thy light shineth not.

Begone! Oh withered spirit with mindless orbs
reflecting bitter emptiness.
Thou feel'est not a Poet's pain
Tis in treachery - no more, no less -
thine proffered trust begat no gain.

With addled mind and twist'ed thoughts, thy sneers are seen,
But, among enlightened souls
Thy light shineth not.

Begone! Oh feebled psyche, with priapic led
morality suffus'ed deep in Id.
Thou thinkest not a Poet's thoughts
Tis in truth mine life is better rid
of thou that have no cause.

With jealousy and boorish deeds thou temptest fate
But, among enlightened souls
Thy light shineth not.

Begone! Oh irksome worm, with intellect
too low to judge mine ilk.
Thou liv'est not a Poet's life
Tis in darkened earth, thy pain is spilt,
and shame that dulls thine sight.

With blinkered view 'King of the blind' art thou
But, among enlightened souls
Thy light shineth not.

Begone! Oh tedious bane, so tiresome
in thine baseness and thy wit.
Thou crav'est such a Poet's lot
but thou could'st never fathom it.
In ignorance you rot.

Thou failest thee and thine, yet seek to blame
But, among enlightened souls
Thy light shineth not.







Frog Song

Cloak of purest ebony
Terra Incognita
Swathe of softest dark
suffused with the sounds
of a myriad voices
A rainbow of harmonies
counter-point
and bass
Statements of pride
wrapped in songs of love
A croaking cacophony
of hope and lust






























Garden Gate

Overgrown.
Symbol of a more laboured, less hurried time,
when admiring glances
justified the cost.
A labour of love,
hand wrought,
now unused and long forgotten.
Hidden glory,
a pane-less window on a slower past,
of intricate swirls
and symmetrical curls
enshrined by snaking stalks of live verdure.
Rusted hinges,
welded in an embrace of crumbling semi-permanence
too intimate for function.
Weakened by abandonment,
bending under the burden of time.
Unseen
this work of art,
this garden gate.
For
now the walls are broken,
and no one comes.











I know you


I know you from somewhere
someplace.
I remember those eyes,
and the way they smile.

It was some time ago
I think -
and we were much younger then.

At least I think that was you.
We met
briefly
on a street corner
downtown.
A rainy night
I seem to remember.
The kind that makes rivers
In the street.

You were walking
no hurry
head held high
eyes smiling -
lost in the rain.
Then you saw me
saw me smiling
smiling at you
and your smiling eyes.

"I like the rain."
you said, laughing
as if in apology.....
....then you were gone.

But I remember those eyes -
your eyes.

At least I think that was you.





I was there

When the pain and the loss of your love
broke your heart
And you cried, breaking down, losing hope,
hating life, and yourself
I was there.
When you found that your friends turned away,
feigning pain
And you sat, early hours, wondering how
you could make a new life
I was there.
When you last touched her cheek, said Goodbye
in that place
And then bore her scant form to its rest,
right behind, in your steps
I was there.
When you stood on that cliff, threw her dust
to the sky
And you watched, as the wind, and the rain,
Sought your flesh, and you smiled
I was there.
When you needed a friend who did not
mind your tears
And you tried to find hope in it all,
take a risk, with romance
I was there.
As a friend, and a brother who cared,
I was there

Then I needed a friend so, I turned to
The one friend I had
And I looked for your strength and support,
But found none in your heart.

and I sat all alone with my fears,
feeling lost and confused
as I searched for my brother my friend,
who would ‘always be there’.

When I cried, breaking down, losing hope,
hating life, and myself
And I saw, you were lost to a life
you once laughed at and mocked.

So I watched, as your life ran its course,
and you left me alone
with no thought of the pain that I had
in my heart, And I asked,
Where were you?



Iceberg

What game is this we play...
as we lie
feigning sleep,
with your back at my back?


Only yesterday
it seems
we craved for contact
skin to skin
heart to heart
touching souls.


and afterwards
lay smiling
entangled in each others eyes
breathing
each others breath,
and promising undying love.


Yet here I lie
alone
drifting, so slowly -
as an iceberg
on a deep cold sea -
away from you

with your back at my back.






Rain

Rain
Summer rain
gently falls
quenching thirst'ed earth
brings joy to starv'ed souls
as blossoms, bright, cry out their love
of life, so sweet, so short.

Rain
Autumn rain
steady beat
of rythmic tears,the weight of such
to push those last to fall.
As chill'ed winds, seductive, lead to sleep
and dreams of rising suns, so warm.

Rain
Winter rain
driving blasts
of icy winds bite deep
into the sleeping forms of verdure'd past
as spectral frames, of Nature's pride
hide deep within their souls, so cold.

Rain
Spring rain
that wakens life
and marks the march of better days,
when life, renewed, will raise its head
in pride, and trite defiance,
bristling hope, and life, and joy.

Rain
Beautiful rain.




ReUnion

Eyes locked, in a naked embrace
As hearts reach out, fingers curling
In passion
In love
(lost love)
Familiar touch – a gentle caress
“It’s good to have you…” (back)

Eyes moist, half open.
Breath sweet, and short.
Lips meet, unspoken.
Hearts beat, heights soared.
Familiar smells – tincture of love
(lost love)



Prodigal welcome, unuttered thoughts.
As words lie hidden, forbidden, unsaid,
In passion
In love
(lost love)
Familiar cries – the music of love.
“I miss you…” (I miss you too)

Of love, and hatred.
Joy, and loss.
Of lives, unsated.
Confusion, cost.
Familiar taste – salt tears of release.
“I know you…” (I know you too)



Flushing cheeks, and heartfelt sighs.
Sealed hearts dam secret dreams,
Of passion
Of love
(lost love)
Familiar face, skin so soft.
“I remember you” (I remember you too)






Recipe For Goddled Skeet Roost Pie.

* Take one 'Skeet Roost' ....

I met him one sod in Febtober,
and asked if he'd skegged a Skeet Roost.
He just gugged, slemming loud in Tolendin,
and pointed 'out west' - to Flim'oosht.

So, next tide I rilled out to the Sebble-dek,
and skuttered fat Plins as I trelled.
Skallies billed, but soon stopped their pultating -
and skried the dried Tollies instead.

Past a snuggardly moon I trelled hably,
folling Tinnicks and Doobies alike -
then I spied a Fanandling Coludian,
but he creened, and espoddled '6 TIKE!'

So to Skol, where the Tike set their ollies,
I craboodled to smot their Lammat,
but then binnied, as fast as an Allipee,
to the 'Duns' - where the Silly-gogs sat.

'Oh Drillibant Moosters Of Tike-ness -
Please Doone Me A Scrab' I did pol,
and the Silly-gogs yittled and diddled
(gurling dile, swally-beens - and Tigol!)

'Tis the sod to tell all Catty-bot-bots,
where the Tike and the Tillibant ploon'.
And then all of the Silly-gogs scundled,
so I dagged - and bridangled the Stroon.

From the Ollies, 6 Tike I did wangle,
and then schlimeed and skopped to Flim'oosht,
banting skols with Finandling Coludians,
to expood my 6 Tike for Skeet Roost.

Well .... as you can probably imagine!

The Finandling Coludians went Jibbly,
and skuddled the Tike with a glip.
Then they dropped a Skeet Roost from a Bill-dang,
and gibbled a Higgelly-skip!

With my Skeet Roost all toodled-up gribly,
I linged East, with my back to Flim'oosht,
to Finandling Coludians and Silly-gogs -
to a pie made from Goddled Skeet Roost.







The Snowdrop



Tho crystal white
earth's blanket lies,
a miracle
seeks forth to rise,
and whilst seen glebe
doth quietly sleep
the snowdrop
yet awakes
to peep
at early skies.

Sweet avatar
to fill the heart
with joy of seasons
yet to start.
In modesty
with head held low
the snowdrop
reaches
into souls
and makes them smile.








Tea Time

It came in through the window, and rushed to the floor,
where it caused utter mayhem, then 'whooshed' through the door.
It went mad in the garden, and flew through the shrubs
ripping leaves from their branches - and, up to the woods,
ploughing tracks through the borders, it gathered up speed
unlimited energy
unfathomable need.
It went tearing, full headlong right up to the wood
then proceeded to climb just as fast as it could.
Branches fought to keep order, but threatened to break
as the leaves gasped in unison
then sighed in its wake

Flashing down from the branch-tips in haste to the ground
where it started cavorting and spinning around
like a mini-tornado, without any care,
grass and daisies were flattened,
twigs took to the air.

When it tired of destruction that made little sense
it sped off up the garden to harry the fence,
in and out of the uprights in churlish delight
forcing sparrows
and thrushes,
in panic, to flight

Then with devlish naughtiness, turned for the hill
but suddenly stopped....
And... standing quite still...
he heard a voice calling (and knew it was me),
for although he's quite mad...
my cat wouldn't miss tea!







Things


There are things that I see,
in my day to day life,
that amaze me -
make it easy to smile.

They distract from the stress,
from the worry, and Strife -
give my head a short rest
(for a while!).

There’s the buzzzzz of a bee,
or a swallow in flight,
or the sight,
of a blossom
in bloom.

But there’s nothing to touch …
nothing wondrous as much …
as a star-lit night sky
and full moon.


















My Epitaph


Tread Softly.

Tread softly in this place of Peace
Where mem'ries trapes a verdent earth, and sentinels of
carv'ed tuff stand proud, among the ancient yew.

Breathe gently in this sacred bower, and sit awhile, to
share your thoughts. But, hold no truck with saddened
eyes or thoughts of loss,
rather,
joyful times of yore bring forth,
and smile,
so I may Rest In Peace.
























It could ne’er be so


Does the sun, in acknowledgement of Man’s woes
relinquish its task, and weep at our sorrow?
It could ne’er be so.

The sun will light the world despite our ways.
The sapling beech still sways - in the presence of an autumn wind,
And falling leaves still dance, in a waltz with the breeze.
As in history’d past, and morrow’d dawn.


Does the moon, in deference to our pain,
stop – and turn shadowed face to shed her tears?
It could ne’er be so.

She guilds a silvered path, decreed by Gods.
The lineal clouds still dart - before the presence of an autumn wind,
And shooting stars still fly, in the depths of the night.
As in history’d past, and morrow’d dawn.


Does the earth, in reference to man’s loss,
cease to be – and give up hope of times to come?
It could ne’er be so.

The earth will turn in its place, and wares not our guilt.
Whilst shiver’d souls seek solace - from the presence of an autumn wind,
And silvered clouds still weep, on verdant glebe.
As in history’d past, and morrow’d dawn.


Do the seas pay homage to the temerity of man,
calming wave and tides to ease our way?
It could ne’er be so.

The seas will course their will deaf to plea’s.
As sailors watch and ward - the presence of an autumn wind,
And mortal men find peace, in the arms of the deep.
As in history’d past, and morrow’d dawn.


Does mankind, in recognition of its sophestry,
change its ways – ‘Mutatis Mutandis’ - Greed for Wisdom?
It could ne’er be so.

Mankind will wend its troubled course, then turn to dust.
As sapling beech sway - in the presence of an autumn wind,
And falling leaves dance, in a waltz with the breeze.
As in history’d past, and morrow’d dawn.



Don’t!

Don’t stop
Don’t think

Don’t ask
Don’t think
Don’t care

Don’t fight
Don’t bite
Don’t think
Don’t dare

Don’t vote
Don’t moan
Don’t stand alone
Don’t think
Don’t own

Don’t hear
Don’t see
Don’t feel the need
Don’t be yourself
Don’t think
Don’t grieve

Don’t fail
Don’t cry
Don’t ‘do and die’
Don’t trust again
Don’t show the pain
Don’t think
Don’t lie

Don’t love
Don’t seek
Don’t look too deep
Don’t live for Peace
Don’t crave release
Don’t want surcease
Don’t think
Don’t dream





Faith






When all hope is abandoned,
what is left for souls to hold?
Should we give up on survival,
gaining lust for Earth's bone-cold?

When we lie, to die, in failure,
for a dream forever lost,
should we pay for countless years of pain
with a love not worth the cost?

When we breathe our last, in sadness,
what release awaits our heart?
Should we honour Hate and Despite
with a spirit torn apart?

Or do we smile, accept our fate,
knowing when our time has come,
we fulfill a higher purpose
having done what we have done?













IF



If I could meet me,
as a boy,
I would hold me close
and say
"Don't worry -
everything
will be okay."

I would dry my tears
and then,
smiling,
look into my eyes
and say
"It's not your fault."






























Just For Me



I have a smile
Deep down inside
I keep, just for myself
My ‘other’ smiles (in various styles),
I keep stacked on a shelf

I put them on
As needs decide
But knowing all the while
That in a place – deep down inside
I hide a secret smile




































Love



Stars
Full moon
Frosted breath.
Lips
Touching
Sweet caress.
Snow
Drifting
From above.
Hearts
Tremble
Lost in love.





















‘ Seasons’


Leafy night
Sodium light
Gentle rain.
Collar tight
Misted sight
Cobbled lane.

Silent morn
Subtle dawn
Glist’ning frost.
Berries red
Snow ahead
Autumn lost.

Mother Earth
Labour’d birth
Sun-kissed dew.
Leaf in bud
Stirring Wood
Life re-new’d.

Shimm’ring haze
Shaded gaze
Butterflies.
Humid dusk
Hony’d musk
Star-filled skies.








Shadow

There is a shadow at my feet,
but it's not mine.
At least
I think that it's not mine.

It sometimes seems
almost me,
but not quite.
Yet it follows me
as though it knows
where it belongs.

It plays the part,
this shadow
that is not quite me.
Appearing when it should,
and moving
as I do.

On brighter days,
when shadows are strong,
I sometimes find myself
glancing,
slyly,
sideways
to see
if I can catch out
this shadow at my feet.

But I havn't yet.
So it must be mine,
this shadow.
But why should a shadow,
this shadow,
my shadow,
Haunt me so?






The Key

The doorstep paints the scene -
desperate sadness tangible
- she inside, he - just outside
but a thousand miles away
"You sure you're okay?" she says
- a caring heart
to the last.
"I'll be fine...." muttered
through a haze of doubt
and guilt
".... you okay?"
She looks up...
...tries to answer
but the words won't come.
so she nods
and attempts an ironic smile
Two broken hearts
shatter
and fall to the ground
as dust
at their feet.
He fumbles
in hip pocket
for…
the last…
link….
"It's only right...." he whispers
through quivering lips -
and holds out a key -
the key
to what once was their home,
their life.
Throat tight
choked with pain.
"It's only right..." he repeats
to fill the silence

both lost for words.
Slowly reaching
tears falling
she takes the key
but lingers, just a while
to squeeze his
hand




why?

why did you leave your path,
my friend?
you had the means to choose an end
to feed your spirit
swell your heart
and play a truly moral part

but leave you did-the pull too strong
closed eyes won't see
a path gone wrong
A cross-road now - the choice is yours
a time of thought - effect - and cause

those myriad cause gleen 'consequence'
- a path, complete with picket fence -
which marks the boundries
straight and true
and seperates the 'me'
from 'you'

Your bright lights hold no lure for me
I crave a different destiny
suffused with birdsong
not the noise of mankind's
petrol-engined toys

'Normality'- a deadly vice
where life 'is sweet'
and 'very nice'
but superficiality
could never rule the path for me

A crowded town - a box for two
with double glazing ("splendid view"!)
-where neighbours nod,
but all the while hide pain
behind their painted smiles

sublime beneath a double face
this remnant of the human race
marks steps of blood upon the back
of those who havn't got the nack

I hold no wish to join this clan
to live - 'I have, therefore I am'
the future of the human race
will find no saviours in this place

The true path has no signs -
no voice
the gods dictate - YOU have the choice
A lonely heart at journey's end?
You pick the path you choose
- my friend.



Words



Wouldn’t it be strange if
in some way -
every
word
we
said
had a price to pay?

I feel we’d think much more
before
we wasted them -
keeping silent,
or not picking up
that poisoned pen.

But ‘words’,
despite
their might, are simply
formed by need,
and though
‘straight from the heart’ -
mean naught without the deed.


So take all ‘words’
as read and heard,
and meant -back then -
no doubt.
But time will tell,
and in the end,
the truth (or not)
of words will ‘out’.







Happy Birthday





No-one to say "How was your day?"
(an empty home)
No 'Two for tea', there's only me
(a single soul)

No "Hun - I'm home!", just me - alone
(a bitter smile)
No hug or kiss - the things I miss
(cue tear-filled eyes)

No new 'e-mails', there's only bills
with desperate news.
They stay unread, in rising dread
(ignore the clues)

No birthday cards - a life in shards
that has no plan.
A heavy heart, that feels no part
of 'Modern Man'

By tungsten light, a lonely night
(stark sillouettes)
A single bed (no 'Goodnight' said)
just sad regrets







Dulcit Whispers

the words you voice
portents of doom
oh wicked lies

those words by choice
a painted gloom
no virtues vie

a photograph
of sepia'd tones
justify
the lives of crones
in dulcit whispers
quiet room
oh wicked lies

duplicitous
all actors
with a hidden smile
oh wicked lies
but know the fact
that tho' your lips
a smile do make
your eyes display a heart that's fake
and others ride upon your wake
so don't forget to breathe
and live
your wicked lies











F.T.W.


Fuck the suited politicians, and their sycophantic wives;
Fuck the way the games they play mess up our fucking lives.
Fuck the smirk of legislation,
fuck the arrogance of law,
fuck the grins of ‘Euro-Beuro-Crats’-
- all rotten to the core.

Fuck the failing ‘nanny-state’, and fuck its patronizing view.
Fuck the way they always think they know what’s best for you.
Fuck the rich and their 'tax write-off’s’,
fuck their growing slice of cake,
and fuck the tax-man,
who’d tax every drink and fucking breath you’d take.

“Fuck You - I’m alright Jack!” - that’s the currency today.
Well ‘Fuck You’ - I don’t want it, so just stay…
the fuck…
…away!
Fuck the “Page 3” macho ‘ape-men’,
fuck their xenophobic minds,
and fuck the fact that homes lie empty…
… while the homeless…
mark…
out time.

Fuck all Labour - fuck Conservative - fuck the Liberal Democrats,
fuck the way we’re all dictated to by ‘Ego-centric Pratts’!
Fuck the rising cost of living,
fuck the price of Daily Bread,
fuck the fact that there are those who think they’re better fucking dead!

Fuck the bills you pay, the debts you owe, the fucking C.S.A..
Fuck the fact that no-one listens to a fucking word you say.
Fuck the cheating,
Fuck the lying,
Fuck hypocrisy (it's rife!),
FUCK THE WORLD, and all it stands for,
get a grip…
Grab Back Your Life!