GUEST POST // A Birthday Poem by B K Rollason

There comes a time
for taking stock
of what one’s had
and what one’s got,

of where one’s going
and where one’s been,
of what one’s heard
and what one’s seen.

You know the games,
you’ve learnt the rules,
you can tell the wisemen
from the fools,

you’ve learned that all’s
not as it seems,
that life is both
reality and dreams,

and like the tides
that ebb and flow,
life’s sometimes fast
and oft’ times slow.

To survive the storm
a tree must bend,
and a new day starts
where this one ends.

 

by B K Rollason
© All rights reserved 1982

the blacklight gaze

maybe i am nothing
or maybe i did happen once
but history was never my story
and paradise always belonged to you
maybe if i denied my need
maybe if i’ve not said too much
i might finally find my field of reeds
to walk in, perchance to breathe

fain don’t you light a candle for me
for tomorrow’s breeze would see me gone
so scorn me not for a child
i intend to bleed from open hands

maybe i am grateful
or maybe i’ll be the final smile
frozen between provident lines
where i’m never right and you’re never wrong
maybe i haven’t bled enough
maybe if i defied the need
in an ultraviolet field of reeds
to haze in, ergo to breathe

fain don’t you light a candle for me
for tomorrow’s breeze would see me gone
so scorn me not for a child
i intend to bleed over scorched sands

maybe my blood was fire
maybe i am guttering now
bleeding out blackened fields of need
to lay in, forgo to breathe
so maybe i am something
maybe i’ll not betide even once
everyone’s busy living and dying
least of all me

 

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2020

TATI’s & TONY’s DEAD POET TOUR // Song by Thomas Runciman

You who know what easeful arms
Silence winds about the dead,
Or what far-swept music charms
Hearts that were earth-wearied;

You who know – if aught be known
In that everlasting Hush
Where the life-born years are strewn,
Where the eyeless ages rush, –

Tell me, is it conscious rest
Heals the whilom hurt of life?
Or is Nirvana undistressed
E’en by memory of strife?

 

by THOMAS RUNCIMAN (1841-1909)
Public Domain Poetry

how to explain life to a live girl

they walk around the room cuddling a dead hare
smearing the floor with stale syrupy gold
they cry out loud that awakening is here
exactly as beuys has foretold

i lie on the floor trying not to sleep
but the damned gold flashes before my eyes
here i balance over the greasy steep
falling through the creaky rickety skies

and i see in my dream how a huge dead hare
cuddles me to its soft warm belly
runs its paws over my messy hair
treats me to marmite and orange jelly

the hare whispers of shoes and sealing wax
of shooting stars over the seashore
that a worldview’s a matter of parallax
…i wake up to the sound of a slammed door

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2019

GUEST POST // A gaze he had to meet by In mind and out

even in this crowded room
it was the type of gaze that filled the air
between them,
it swerved the corners of reality
with tangibility –
he felt it’s whispers wrap the shoulders of his fears
and write a message in the atmosphere
for him to see
the invitation that she
painted there,
in silken threads of space
that she pulled and interlaced with gravity,
electricity,
a reveal of fortune-cookie
destiny,
until it was a gaze he had to meet

 

by IN MIND AND OUT
© All rights reserved 2019