 The question you must ask, the one you think to pose.
Is what is needed now, to bring things to a close. Of all the things we need to shred, the objects we must burn. Of people we let go, no longer our concern. For in unfurling bud, is promise of anew. Of hope of better things, of love that will renew. The petal shape of heart, leads us to our centre. A relationship in the view, of equal and of mentor. For now it’s time to start again, back at our beginning. Spring forth upon the year, no longer to be sinning. Our truth is what must now be heard, be sung like crested lark. To greet the golden morn, with melody and of bark. For us now to express ourselves, through call and that of prose. To trust in spirit of the plant, from blackthorn to primrose. Abundance there is here and now, in one full turn of wheel. Where all the flowers come to dance, to strut their stuff and deal. To bristle, shake, and dust self off, be ready for the go. To jump from block and starting gun, back in the mighty flow. For now we run as fast as can, charge head long on and on. To fill our day with joy and fun, rising orb to setting sun. By Simon Blackler Copyright © Simon Blackler 2021 If you care to comment on this poem at all and the emotions that it brings up for you then please feel free to do so below.
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 She is in the moment, when the clock strikes three.
She is in the nighttime, when there's only loneliness and me. She is in the shadows, of the day long stress I find. She is in the emptiness, in the splinters of my mind. She is in the circle, of where it all began. She is in the landscape, walking hand in hand. She is in the weekends, in a past life full of joy. She is in the morrow, more authentic and less coy. She is in the fragrance, of a scent flirting with my nose. She is in the flowers, of honeysuckle and of rose. She is in the deerskin, a treasure to the touch. She is in the cards and gifts, that promised all too much. She is in the memory, of fun times often shared. She is in the heartbeat, of lovers who once cared. She is in the albums, of snap shots time's forgot. She is in the flame, that tries to burn the flipping lot. She is in the beach, where I go and sit and think. She is in the shoreline, as the sun turns clouds to pink. She is in the driftwood, washed up on the coming tide. She is in the reality, of a light that’s gone and died. She is in the body, of someone I don’t know. She is in the doorway, not sure to stay or go. She is in the onward, our destiny entwined as one. She is in the reason, for the journey still to come. She is in the necklace, of a new recruit. She is in the wood, in twig and branch and root. She is in the breeze, that caresses all the trees. She is in the spirit, that comes to set me free. She is in the counsel, of many a true friend. She is in the healing, of a human on the mend. She is in the woman, who I have not yet met. She is in the future, to settle an old debt. By Simon Blackler Copyright © Simon Blackler 2021 If you care to comment on this poem at all and the emotions that it brings up for you then please feel free to do so below. |
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August 2025
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