When did the starlings fly?
I did not hear their sweet goodbyes.
Only the candy floss caught in the cypress trees
Tugs gently at my memories
Of festivals already come and gone.
Leave me to winter’s misty song.
My little starlings, close your eyes.
There’s time for one more lullaby
Before the dust from your impatient feet
Wells up among those cypress trees.
You will go forth to right our wrongs;
Leave us to winter’s lonely song.
Come darling there’s no need to cry.
Those simple truths are also lies
That tell us that they must be free.
That’s cotton wool up in those cypress trees.
Let others go to right their wrongs;
Leave us to winter’s bracing song.
This morning I had my mind blown by my seven year old son, who wrote this poem at school. Soon I may have to down my pen and hand over to him… What do you think?
I wrote a song of love.
We’ve seen it all before,
the idle lovers said,
I wrote a song of strife.
The soldier on his crutch
said, what do you know?
And I confessed, not much.
And then I wrote the horrors.
But the dying said:
such thoughts you twisted into words!
Yet there are bigger horrors
in our beds.
I wrote a song for you.
And we all stood agape
as raindrops wet our tongues
and filled the cracks in our skin.
I spent all day chasing the impossible.
And then, on the way back home, there were two guys on the radio playing acoustic guitar and singing. I parked the car and switched off the lights and sat back in the seat. And they set me floating across the water rocking on waves gently rolling to the persistent slacking of the halyard against the mast in the summer evening breeze, and I sat like that for a while listening.
And they told me, in different words that meant something else, that you can chase the impossible and you won’t catch it because it’s what it is. But if you chase it, precious things will keep happening on the way.
One day I’ll write my final lines
Because to write will hurt too much.
One day I’ll read my final verse
Because the pain will be too much.
One day I’ll say my last goodbye
Because I cannot bear the touch.
I already stopped listening to music
Because it hurts so much.
One day I will not feel the yearning
Because I’ll never earn that much.
I will not listen to those sermons
Because the love will be too much.
One day I will not feel the burning
Because it all feels cold to touch.
One day I will not feel like giving,
One day, when it will hurt too much.
And soon, I’ll cease to reminisce
Because the memories are bitter.
And soon, I’ll cease to take the pills
Because they do not make them sweeter.
And soon I’ll cease to take those calls –
Because I do not need their idle chatter.
And soon I’ll cease to have regrets –
I’ll know there’s always something better.
And I will keep on walking down the lonely road
Whether on my own or with another.
And I will shed a moment’s tear when they’re gone
Be it friend or foe or just my lover.
I’ll keep on losing everything I’ve earned
My pockets and my hands are full of holes
One day I’ll give up on my broken body
To salvage something of my soul.
But as long as you are here
I will write down my songs for you.
If you can just ignore my tears
I’ll read my lines out loud to you.
If you just promise to return
I’ll say those long goodbyes to you.
As long as you keep holding me
The hurt will feel so sweet with you.
– O –
(From “Songs of Love”)
I turn my head to you
I turn my heart to you
My heart, it yearns for you
My Heart, I’ll hurt for you.
So when the gates of Hell are sealed
And all the lies and truths revealed –
My heart will cry for you
I’ll burn, my Heart, for you.
And when the gates of Heaven blessed
Will offer me eternal rest –
My heart will plead for you
I will reject it all for you.
And when the prophecies transpire
And the final stars expire –
The void will call for you
There will be light for you.
I wrote these words about another kind
of love, a child of a pained and selfish mind.
But now, my Heart, I sing of you,
my heart, it sings for you.
– O –