Aesthetica Poetica ~ Violet Moon Poetry

Thursday, 4 July 2019

6 Years And Counting... M.E.

Horse kicks to back that never leave

Radiates down hips... to my knees

Cracked-glass ribs shatter, when I sneeze

My body temp... lava to freeze

My brain it drills electric holes

My pain writhes, sears and Hell unfolds Weighted down on bed... chokehold

Yet still, no help for us... I’m told

My neck too fragile for my head

I rattle now with all the meds

Despite my best, M.E.... can’t shed

Nicknamed aptly... “The Living Dead”

Weak, limp muscles and hands that drop

Unsupported, cannot sit up

On days like this, I beg it... “STOP!”

It’s all I have... to not give up

I lose the key to words, unlock

Life decimated... left in shock

I’m now no more than a stopped clock

Why is M.E.... fair game to mock?

My blood pressure waves, peak and trough

And yet, so called friend, still... she scoffs

In moonlit hours I reach... ENOUGH!!!

Thank God for you of endless love

No fuel, to eat, breathe or greet

Reduced to putrid rotting meat

To block out sound... no easy feat

Thundering in ears... own heartbeat

Light also now, no friend of mine

Spend days blacked-out... lose track of time

Text nonsensical, blurred mazed rhyme

For all I do... I pay the fine

Yet, still I hope and dream and pray

That my health will... return one day

That I’ll no longer live afraid

Of living, rest of life... this way

Wednesday, 3 July 2019

Once, whimsical dream, I near breathed

Now a mere painting in my head

Where emotive hues dance untamed

Yet striking still... I’ve no regret

Saturday, 29 June 2019

My Preston Days

Stationery Box and Joe Bloggs Jeans

The Potato Man selling parched peas

Avenham Park one of my old haunts

Living life too fast... to wear a coat

Bus Station and it's vending machines

Felt all grown up yet barely a teen

Action Records my favourite place

Brucciani’s coke-float... milkshake taste

Preston... how I fondly remember

Hold dear my memories forever

Those teenage years I spent within you

At Lord Bryons, the Harris... Cafe Zoo

Incense sticks, hippy floaty clothes

Orbit, my dress shop... treasure trove

Heineken Music Festival

Oasis, Verve...incredible!!

90's nightlife, rhythm... cobbled streets

The Cenotaph where we'd all meet

Doc Martens from the Army store

The Art Lab raves... now mere folklore

So long ago and yet so bright

In dreams still comes to me at night

Of the way things were... used to be

Of all the things that made me... me

If these are places I shared with you

Know you're etched in time... in rainbow hues

For Halcyon days they were to me

Forever young... we'll roam wild and free

Thursday, 27 June 2019

Pondering...

I ponder where to start... after all where does silence end and our words begin?

Is it upon an unread page... or shrill, in ear, from a reverberant voice?

Is breath then the locomotive of a word's true actualisation?

Only to be heard when uttered... yet do we not hear with our hearts and minds?

Some poets write to hear the syllables chime and others to spin silken tales

Some scribe so we heed their call, for others it's cathartic... their release of woe

Stark black type, marching mutely in lines of conformity across the page

A river of ink, meandering... breaking into words of cresting waves

Pens painting dreamlands... flooding the parched plains of our ashen imagination

A meticulous mirage... but will it quench, or fail, the readers rampant thirst?

Perhaps, though, it's inbetween the words... in the pauses and noiseless spaces

Where in its diaphanous, cloaked gift of marked stillness... true wisdom unfurls

Thursday, 13 June 2019

Holy Isle - Arran - World Peace Centre

Beneath Arran’s peaks, betwixt olive hills

Nestles Lamlash vale with sea blanket drawn

Upon golden shore lays her ashen head

Basks in sun serene where the clouds are torn

From near Holy Isle where the seagulls sing

Distant trawler groans ‘pon jewelled cobalt sea

Whilst the Soay they lark and the waves roll in

The peace comforts me with its rowdy din

So it comes to be that I question peace

What it means to me ‘midst this holy place

For you see I’ve learned... it’s not heard but felt

So I take with me and no more I’ll waste

As the boat nears shore with my soul renewed

I’ll think on this day, watery greens and blues

As the paint of peace brushes clear my thoughts

My heart swells with love and my soul imbrues

The Isle of Gigha

Where sky and sea and Paps they greet

With turquoise blue and emerald feet

Bright birdsong-breeze forbids all woes

Waves play betwixt her sandy coves

Gods Island named and aptly so

When Norseman anchored long ago

Their tales still echo marked in stone

Amongst the farmland cairns outgrown

An island story so unique

A phoenix rising from the bleak

Community united strong

Triumphantly we heed their song

A place whence been will call you home

To soon return... your soul is sworn

For once you’ve seen you’ll ne’er forget

Lost in her wiles... your dreams will set

Sunday, 28 April 2019

Wah Wah Heart

memories entwined

in guitar-rift melodies

still... my Wah Wah heart

#senryu