 From birth I was rejected, as God had left his mark.
A lesion on my forehead, mother’s shock, quite stark. So little time to suckle, so soon upon the bottle. Forever sat upon the pot, so scared I was to puddle. Quickly I began to learn, to be nice boy, quiet, timid. To fit in with parental kin, keep lid on, know my limit. Such ingrained conditioning, I soon was lamb to slaughter. At mercy to my friend or peer, bully, thug or father’s daughter. At school I came to realise, the suffering and the pain. Of muddied shoes and spitting foes, pushed down banks in solid rain. And then there was a locking arm, closed taught around my neck. To the unforgiving floor I fell, and wondered what the heck. Off to head of year I was, returning from the black. To resolve this issue, once for all, to get some existence back. More difficult though it seemed to be, as formed I was, the walnut. Tight within the shell I lived, no thought to shape, or being hermit. For when one bully disappeared, another came at once. More dangerous than the one before, more tyranny, more months. Punching arms and kicking legs, left just holding thread. To the last day of the term, where I was wished plain dead. A pattern had been formed, to college and to work. Every oppressor I could meet, to administer any hurt. So attractive I seemed to be, a wondrous bully magnet. My life led to others rule, criticised, controlled, their pet. At the heart of me however, was one undying firm belief. That another way was possible, to bring ultimate relief. To a counsellor I would go, eventually to reach out. A thought to gamble all, win big or leave with nowt. Gatekeeper to another world, porter to the door. Where I could spot a realm of flight, where I could rise and soar. The path was being shown to me, the runway to take off. To leave the caterpillar way behind, greet butterfly and that of moth. And so it was to seventeen, not age but turns of wheel. To drop all facades that were fake, to live life that more real. Where many members of my clan, Lepidoptera of great power. Would give me teachings, learnings, prose, of nature and the flower. For stag to come, and gift masculine to the bone. For tiger, wolf, panther to arrive, to start to bring me home. For condor to appear, and raven, that of owl. To be blessed with healing arts, for me to cry and howl. For here I was beginning, to find myself at last. Animals supporting me, ensuring such a blast. Working with me hand in hand, to be trusted without fail. To assist me in supporting you, as me, myself, Swallowtail. By Simon Blackler Copyright © Simon Blackler 2026 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.  There’s a freshness to this place, like which I’ve never seen.
There’s a wind, a breeze, an inkling, lifting veil of life and dream. There’s grass beneath my feet, soft, moist, like never tread. There’s an expectancy apparent, of an existence hanging by a thread. Stood tall, eyes pierced, to horizon, crystal to the view. There’s a nudge from behind me, of a presence unimaginably new. A force that continues pushing, of a creature’s mighty thrust. I look down upon his shoulders, my limbs buckling to his trust. For now I feel him in me, my legs and his are one. Calves strain, muscles, sinew, as in a moment we begin to run. At first I think I’m mounted, riding powerful, masculine beast. But then I see my hoof hit ground, will wonders never cease. My hart begins to pound, animate pulse pumps and quickens. Adrenalin, blood, spirit, coursing vein thickens. My nostrils start to flare, as we power on the charge. I and he as stag, passed bush and gorse we barge. Antler not in evidence, a steed not in his prime. Still development to be made, whether his essence or mine. Suddenly there is nervousness, a palpable, convincing fear. For what is that upon our path, no other than grizzly bear. Such a shock to see him there, immediately it is break. All senses alert and paralysed, as if bitten by a snake. My eyes wide eyed and open now, I’m back upon my bed. What more I wonder of Running Deer, my name whispered to me by the dead. By Simon Blackler Copyright © Simon Blackler 2020 If you care to comment on this poem at all please feel free to do so below.  There’s a strange shape at rest on the landscape.
With no clue as to friendship or foe. A huge bulk of a beast in its torso. We approach with great caution, wisely so. He’s snoring away in his slumber. His pot belly at the rise and then fall. We tip toe past this most fearsome of warthogs. Keeping quietly hidden and small. Beyond we look nervously over shoulder. To see if our progress wakes him from sleep. And so start running away to the boundary. When an abrupt snort comes from the deep. For now he’s rolled over more active. Alive at the prospect of lunch. Of a human or two on the menu. And what else could add to his brunch. He paws at the ground with his trotters. Gores down in the Earth with his tusk. Sweat pours from his brow and his midriff. A swine in his prime in full musk. He meanders his way to the fence line. A saunter becomes canter and then run. Before a stall in momentum against stake post. In his charge more sternness than fun. He sniffs hard at the air of his quarry. Stands rigid against territory wall. No hint to his thoughts or his actions. And whether flight is now needed or call. And yet there in his strength is an offer. To come closer and examine this kin. To stand tall along with his power. And share in his great presence and win. For he has not come for the fighting. Not least in the tradition of war. Instead he his here to inspire poet. To join forces with bard as wild boar. By Simon Blackler Copyright © Simon Blackler 2020 If you care to comment on this poem at all please feel free to do so below.  Take me to your bosom, oh bountiful Mother Earth.
Let me lick upon your nipples, upon hillsides you have birthed. Cradle me in your mountain tops, hold me in luscious ravines. Enthrall me with your peaks and troughs, allow me to sleep in meadows and dream. Embrace me in your valley's cleavage, wrap me in mists of silk. Permit me to drink of your waters, and suckle of your milk. Pull me close into your body, envelope me with your love. Grant me to listen to your heart beat, just a molecule from above. Cuddle me in forests, cover me in grassy plains. Drape me in savannah, keep me from going insane. Warm me in your deserts, caress me on your beach. Touch me ever so softly, with your flora and your beast. Clothe me in your estuaries, serenade me with morning song. Nurture me with field and hedgerow, feed me landscapes to which I long. Sit me upon your plateau, nuzzle me with marsh and steppe. Bounce me upon your tundra, speak to me words I'll never forget. Kiss me with your sunsets, painted vivid upon the sky. Tuck me in at night, all the stars bedecked within your eye. Whisper to me with your wind, sprinkle me with your sand. Be forever next to me, walking with me hand in hand. By Simon Blackler Copyright © Simon Blackler 2018 If you care to comment on this poem at all please feel free to do so below. |
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