Poems From A Sad Heart

By Alan Brewis

‘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!