P. 1
Miscellaneous Poetry

Miscellaneous Poetry

|Views: 4|Likes:
Published by Marcus Henry
A selection of original poetry from my archives.
A selection of original poetry from my archives.

More info:

Published by: Marcus Henry on Jul 15, 2013
Copyright:Attribution Non-commercial

Availability:

Read on Scribd mobile: iPhone, iPad and Android.
download as DOCX, PDF, TXT or read online from Scribd
See more
See less

03/02/2014

pdf

text

original

Miscellaneous Poetry

by Marcus Henry

You can read more of my poetry at: http://hellopoetry.com/-angel-of-profanity/ I also have videos of poetry readings at: http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLZyIGGPOdIQZ6DPrO6ePWOjUisnl2iQGp

Love (10 words) I was infatuated with unrequited love; “Don’t cry” she said.

Luna A half moon slices through the mottled-ink screen of night while the standing stones hang in solid defiance, puncturing time with silence this man-made structure... unmanned. Luminous... a landscape revived from this fractured eternity though perception must divide her silhouette, she has always abided in the infinite waters of time.

© 2013

Here and Now In this small space where we stand, A universe is crammed A galaxy in a molecule, A wise man in a fool.

Here we go again All this ferocity is caused by our velocity, We live with false intensity, a life of feathered density And arrive for the departure of the legendary archer; A drowning generation in an ocean of sensation. A decision has been made by our audiovisual trade That the eyes most certainly have it, introducing our next habit, To the tongue who quite agrees that it's guaranteed to please: "Just put it on the Visa and keep it in the freezer". But we just can't keep this treasure; it melts like other pleasures, When we take it out to use it, we find that we abuse it, And the only thing we know is that our money has been blown And our long-time erstwhile lover has become another's mother.

Texture

© 2013

I’ll have eggs for breakfast, scrambled like my feelings, But if I hear a crackle snap, then I think I might start screaming; The words but they can’t get through the are crawling out, ceiling, If only you had pets you’d know my feelings.

So plug in your machine, cos I’m feeling If I feel something crack, then I’ll know I’ve been corrected; I wish were the ones that I Cos the messages I send are disconnected. the words I used, selected, disconnected,

Comfortably Numb (senryu) Passion’s denouement has rendered me insensitive to love songs

© 2013

Wake Up Call There was no wake-up call this morning and there was no breakfast; I lay there as still as a rock in a stony silence. Somebody came in and wept, trying to comprehend the loss; but they didn’t help me at all in their helplessness. This kind of sleep comes once in a lifetime; I never realised how exhausted I was and I never realised how much this body had been a corpse all along.

Life The lament falls from your lips like rose petals onto concrete; your frown is reflected in a sea of sullen mirrors; your tears fail to drench the aching heart; the touch of your hand is a shock but the leaves are shimmering with life.

The Drums I came across a drummer in an open glade And sat before him to listen for a while; The beats he played shimmered in the leaves Causing my spirit to dance in the breeze, While he closed his eyes to sing his song And lifted his head to the clear blue sky. Somehow I found myself doing the same

© 2013

And in the space between us, my questions came Answered by the rhythms in the wind among the trees. “Tell me, what do the drums speak of?” I whispered to the wind. “They speak of the mountains, as solid as the earth, Giving life to clouds and a course for rivers; They have lasted longer than the oldest buildings, Yet they must also one day perish Without the mountains, there can be no drums.” “And tell me, what does the rhythm speak of?” “It speaks of the river that has always flowed, is flowing still, bringing water to crops and life to the breeze; Sometimes a torrent and sometimes a brook, It, too, must one day dissolve in the ocean Without the river, there can be no rhythm.” “And tell me please, what is it that your song speaks of?” “It speaks of the wind that gives flight to birds and breath to trees, Heralding the transit of tides and relief from the heat; Destruction and power dispensed in equal measure Unseen by all, yet when my song is gone, Only the wind will remain.” And at that moment the drumming stopped, Like the sound of falling stones; We lowered our heads, opened our eyes, And the drummer flashed a dazzling smile, As bright as the harvest moon. Then we returned our gaze to the clear blue sky, Bordered by mountains and trees, And I could still hear the rhythm of the endless river Flowing in the breeze. I looked down once more only to find that the drummer had disappeared, Leaving in his invisible wake the fluttering of soft Autumn leaves; And I remained alone in that open glade, perched upon mountains, Following the river in it’s course through the trees While the wind within me whispered: “So it goes”

© 2013

In This World In this world of ivory towers we hide from mortal woe, while kings in cardboard castles keep the stock markets in tow. In this world I lay the day to soporific waste, while others fight each other for the smallest morsel's taste. In this world the raven cries of friends I think the best, demand an answer in loud tones and scar my doubtful chest. In this world there are no rules – only the walk of time, As cycles pass before our eyes to the clarion call “It's mine!” In this world there is no 'now,' nor any need for the past, and yet we point the finger at those who come in last. In this world a single life is measured by a blow, as laughter echoes from the towers and streets are lined with woe.

Duet (Soprano) Along the river the trees are thick, in this shimmering midday haze; in you the earth reveals her plan, now capturing my gaze.

© 2013

(Tenor) Above the station are billboards and signs and you, my tower of might, your canyon of light disrupts the street your world is best at night.

Trilogy 1 In the dens of urgent lovers, with the fairy lights above us, where the morphing mass mutates on stage, and frozen songs incite the rage the glistening bodies glow; 2 A shimmering dawn at altitude, where I can find my solitude, and less of life amongst the steel, where we are fish upon the reel unto Arcadia I go; 3 From the cage of Morpheus’ people to the open fields of Nature’s steeples, so far apart, these star-struck lovers, yet one can't live without the other this is the truth, I know.

© 2013

You're Reading a Free Preview

Download
scribd
/*********** DO NOT ALTER ANYTHING BELOW THIS LINE ! ************/ var s_code=s.t();if(s_code)document.write(s_code)//-->